Inna Stasyuk Aesthetics

Love Poetry Archive

Wednesday

27

May 2015

0

COMMENTS

If I Were A Rainbow

Written by , Posted in Love Poetry, Love Yoga

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If I were a rainbow, I would be painted in seven colors.

If I were a rainbow, the crown of my head would be the color of violets, and the fragrance of sweet jasmine. I would wear a diadem made of tourmaline clear quartz.  The branches of enlightenment and transcendence would pierce my mind and yearn for the knowledge of the divinity, and the flowers of higher value would blossom upon those branches. My every thought would be a strand of gold, infused with the perfume of the lotus flower. The planet Uranus would orbit the still spaces of my mind. I would burn incense laced with the scent of a peony blossom, to the source of all truth, and a colorful lotus flower of one thousand petals would live there.

If I were a rainbow, an indigo sky would rest between my eyebrows, and Jupiter would orbit in its light. A silver bindi of lapis amethyst would drape from its abyss, and a soothing melody of intuition and understanding would echo there. Imagination bathed in lavender would be queen there, and Meditation immersed in the aroma of star anise would be her king. I would set up an altar made of silver, and burn galangal incense to the source of awareness, and a silver two petaled lotus flower would breathe there.

If I were a rainbow, an ocean of blue would caress the shores of my throat. Tides of feeling and openness would rise and fall, giving breath to the majestic sea. Branches of eucalyptus and frankincense would drift along the swell, exhaling their scent into the ocean. Ships of speech and expression would sail its healing waters, and wild fish of creativity, articulation, and ideas would explore its depths. Reefs of turquoise azurite would pave its floors, and the planet mercury would orbit there. I would burn incense laced with sandalwood to the Life Force of all things, and a violet lotus flower of sixteen petals would blossom there.

If I were a rainbow, an emerald forest would spread across my heart. Trees of love, with branches of compassion, hope, and trust, would flourish there. And on their branches, leaves of forgiveness, sharing, and connection would bud. Their roots of balance would pierce and curl deep into the soil of Self Love. A green meadow of emotion would be hidden in the folds of the forest, its air laced with the calming aroma of chamomile, and a fountain of green tour kunzite would splash there. Flowers of Personal Growth, infused with the notes of heliotrope would blossom there. Venus would orbit in its serenity, and the birds of Flexibility, and Coping Skills would circle above, and chant their melodies. I would build an altar of copper and burn rose incense to the source of all love, and a blue lotus flower, of twelve petals would bloom there.

If I were a rainbow, the blazing yellow of the sun would illuminate my navel. Its power  would ignite an eternal fire within me, and the flames would roar of desire, passion, and inner strength. It’s scent would be that of ginger, and its seething tongues would devour Vitality and Purpose, and vitality and purpose would become its fuel. It would rage and consume, and leave behind only cinders of Self Control soaked in the sweet fragrance of blueberry. Mars would orbit among its devotional flames. I would build an altar of iron at the center of it, and adorn it in amber citrine, and I would burn incense infused with the spicy fragrance of cedar, to the source of all energy, and a bright yellow lotus flower of ten petals would blossom there.

If I were a rainbow, an orange sunset of intimacy would sweep across my sacrum, its breath composed of notes of dragon-blood. A lake of sensuality and emotion would become its mirror, and ripples of sensitivity would interrupt its stillness. Rays of attraction would scatter across the horizon, and exhale the perfume of a rose, and particles of creativity would season the calm of heavens. The pale moon would reign there, and pendants of coral carnelian would hang upon its horizon. I would make an altar of tin, and burn incense infused with saffron, to the giver of intimacy. A vibrant vermilion lotus flower of six petals would bloom there.

If I were a rainbow, a crimson sunrise would engulf the root of me. It would stretch above the grounding lands of the earth, and lace the air with the fragrance of cinnamon. A shelter of security would be anchored upon the solid ground of self preservation, and a well of survival, made of hematite blood-stone, would pulse from its soil. A campfire of primal energy would burn and not tire, and its smoke would pray to the heavens and offer the perfumes of cedar. Jupiter would orbit among the breath of simplicity, and I would build an altar of lead, and burn incense of myrrh, to the giver of life, and a crimson red lotus flower of four petals would blossom there.

 

 

Sunday

8

March 2015

0

COMMENTS

Chaos of These Ruins.

Written by , Posted in Love Life, Love Poetry

 

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“Hello” I whisper softly, to the familiar stranger,
“Hello” she mouths back, in silence.

It is her silence, not carefully crafted words that interrogate the heart within me,
Unclothe my soul, and reveal the depths of me.
It is her silence, that leaves me clenching a naked heart,
A naked, broken heart, stripped of the beautiful pretense, and the sparkling charade.

My eyes rise to meet hers, and I am sinking into the blue green oceans of raw emotion.
As I am swallowed up by the depths of these raging waters of blue and green,
I recognize it all…

I recognize the shattered walls, and I lift a piece of hanging wallpaper,

Wallpaper that once made these walls a home.
I pick up scattered pages of a once familiar script,
Chapters, no longer in any particular order, no longer holding any meaning.
Thousands of pages of empty words, lifeless scribbles without a voice.

I stand among the chaos of these ruins,
Of these ruins, that once made up my home, my world.
Of these ruins, that once clothed my heart,
Of these ruins, that once were the foundation of my everything, my life.

I stand in the whirlwind of these scattered pages,
Of these pages, that defined my past,
Of these pages, that made sense of all my regret,
Of these pages, that explained my pain, my suffering, and all my hearts troubles.
Of these pages, that once foretold my future.

I can still hear the echos of familiar voices, warning me.
Warning me to stop searching,
Warning me to stop questioning.
Warning me to stop reading,
Warning me to stop writing,
To stop digging, to stop listening.
Voices begging me to believe in this beautifully built city of pretense,
And to worship in this sparkling charade.
Begging me to memorize the perfect script,
The perfect aged script, of the past, the present, and the future.
The perfect aged script, that held all of the answers.
Lest’ I end up with a chaos of ruins…

But most sharply of all, I can still feel the pangs of a made up love.
A love that I lived for, a love that never was.

I find my way out of these blue green waters,
I escape the currents of the raging, blue green oceans.

Tears now caress the familiar stranger’s face,
I reach out to comfort her, to show her I understand,
I’ve stood in the chaos of her ruins, I’ve held her naked heart,
And as I reach for her, her hand reaches for me,
And then my hand hits glass, and I taste the salty waters of her tears.
My own tears.

I will continue searching.
I will continue reading.
I will continue writing.
I will continue digging.
I will continue hearing.
I will continue seeking.
I will continue questioning.

And perhaps there are ruins where my hope used to live,
My heart is now set free.
Free from the walls, from the scripts, from the cages, and from the make-belief.
And perhaps I no longer have all the answers, but I am free to live into the questions.

Saturday

9

August 2014

1

COMMENTS

Nothing

Written by , Posted in Love Poetry

I raise my right hand, she does too.

I fake a smile and she follows.

I look away, she turns her head.

I close my eyes, she’s gone…

I follow.

 

She has a face I barely recognize,but somehow I’ve always known.

Layer by layer she peels away masks…

Raw flesh exposes her wounds.

 

Alas! Familiar pain.

The claws of Torture, whispers of Regret.

 

Stripped of it all, I’m faced with the truth.

I reach out to my own reflection.

 

And…

 

I see nothing.

I see nothing.

I feel nothing.

I feel nothing.

I know nothing.

I know nothing.

 

You have stripped me of all of my veils,

You’ve undone all my knots, shut my doors.

You’ve torn apart all my disguises…

You’ve freed me from my favorite webs.

Everything dear to me, You’ve taken.

All my dreams, You have crushed.

All my desires You’ve cut off.

 

And I swear, I see nothing.

Vanity of vanities! My heart cries out.

 

Dead dreams, dead memories, dead hope.

Dead me.

 

You have turned me into nothing…

You’ve emptied me.

Or perhaps…

I’m wrong.

Perhaps, it’s by Your Grace, You let me see, the me I always was.

The me, for so long, I refused to see.

 

Perhaps, You loved me so much, you tore apart my veils,

Perhaps, You loved me so much, you peeled away my every mask.

Perhaps, you loved me so much, you saved me from my own masquerade.

… freed me from my own set up trap.

 

I see nothing.

 

But Dearest Love, my Father and my Savior…

I read before, You made the heavens out of nothing.

And out of nothing you composed the seas.

Out of nothing the stars were formed,

and Time took its course out of nothing.

 

Dear Father, hear my plea!

 

I see nothing.

I see nothing.

I feel nothing.

I feel nothing.

I know nothing.

I know nothing.

 

Take the nothing that I am, and make a new heart in me.

Lace my desires into Your own,

Breathe Your passions into me,

My plans submit to Yours…

Make every cell and every breath in me, forever, speak of Your amazing Love and Beauty.

Make every smile and every tear proclaim of Your wondrous works and of Your Glory!

 

Take the nothing that I am, and make a new heart in me.

 

I raise my right hand, she does too.

I fake a smile and she follows.

I look away, she turns her head.

I close my eyes, she’s gone…

I follow.

 

Dead dreams, dead memories, dead hope.

Dead me.

 

My Dearest Love, please bury me.

Please, make something out of nothing…

Breathe into me.

 

I close my eyes, she’s gone…

I follow.

 

By faith we understand that the entire universe was formed at God’s command, that what we now see did not come from anything that can be seen. Hebrews 11:3

Saturday

9

August 2014

0

COMMENTS

Black and White

Written by , Posted in Love Poetry

Remember when you were a child and you wondered if this life was a dream…
Do you still wonder?

Remember when you thought your dreams were more real than what the world tells you?
Do you still dream?

Remember when your imagination wrote the script to truth, to life, to faith…
Did you trade it all in, for logic and comfort?

Did you exchange the magic of the unknown for the stone cold certainty?
Did you give up?
Did you buy into the granite?

Remember when you thought you could fly?
Did you stop trying?

Did you bow and believe what they said? Did you adopt someone else’s truth into your own heart?
Did you memorize the script?

Why?

Why didn’t you write your own lines?
You were always good with words, you would of done just fine…

Can you still dream? Can you wonder?
Check your pulse.
Do you still hear a heartbeat?

What if one day you wake up?
On the other side…

What if this was never the truth?

What if your world is just a well versed lie. Perfected from generation to generation…
What if you left the truth in the streets where you walked away from childhood?
What if it was real then?
What if that’s the reason life was so simple then?
So easy to love?
So easy to give.

What if what you thought was a dream, was the truth?
And this is the lie.

What if you missed the whole point?
What if you missed the mark…

Darling, where are you now, can you hear me?

Check your pulse.
Do you still hear a heartbeat?

The depth of your eyes still haunts me. The sadness in your silence interrupts my peace. The ice in your voice still lingers in my memory and renews my wounds. Everyday, I bleed fresh blood. Everyday I bleed fresh tears. Over and over, I break for you.

It’s easy to act when you break into the costume room, when you’ve seen all the written scripts. It’s easy to laugh when you’ve mastered the sound effects, and smile when you earn a bachelors in art. Chess is simple when you know the options of a rook and the ways of a knight. And it’s easy to win when you’re playing both sides.
When you are the king of black, and you are king of white.

Do you hear my voice when I scream your name, when I whisper good morning, exhale good night?
Do you feel my touch as I brush your cheek? Do you taste my lips in a passionate kiss?
Do you know that I love you?

Check your pulse.
Do you still hear a heartbeat?

It’s easy to act when you break into the costume room, when you’ve seen all the written scripts. It’s easy to laugh when you’ve mastered the sound effects, and smile when you earn a bachelors in art.

But, the depth of your eyes still haunts me. The sadness in your silence interrupts my peace. The ice in your voice still lingers in my memory, and renews my wounds. Everyday, I bleed fresh blood. Everyday I bleed fresh tears. Over and over, I break for you.

It’s hard to love a man that doesn’t breathe.

Check your pulse.
Do you still hear a heartbeat?

Chess is simple when you know the options of a rook and the ways of a knight. And it’s easy to win when you’re playing both sides.
When you are the king of black, and you are king of white.

Check your pulse.
Do you still hear a heartbeat?

Do you hear my voice when I scream your name, when I whisper good morning, exhale good night?
Do you feel my touch as I brush your cheek? Do you taste my lips in a passionate kiss?
Do you know that I love you?

It’s hard to love a man that doesn’t breathe.

Chess is simple when you know the options of a rook and the ways of a knight. And it’s easy to win when you are playing both sides.
When you are the king of black, and you are king of white.

Remember when you thought you could fly?
Why did you stop trying?

Friday

8

August 2014

0

COMMENTS

Someday

Written by , Posted in Love Poetry

Here I am before you Dear,
I’m on my knees.
The rocks are sharp, the earth’s cold,
But I don’t wear my sandals…

The land I stand on‘s laced in red,
My knees are cut, my feet are torn,
My heart lays here in pieces…
I swallow tears and scream Your name!
I need your Holy whispers…

And in my hand, as if for life I clutch a box of matches…

Will a box of matches keep me warm?
Will I survive this winter?
Will a box of matches give me light?
Will I make it out of this dark alive?

I strike a match and light a frozen candle.

A faint flame, the story of my naked soul,
Trembling but somehow, still burning.

And as I watch the flame give light and dance to the winds rhythm,
I know You’re here, within, You are the flame in me…
Through sharp stabs of pain, in the darkness, gripped by cold,
I lift all fragments of my broken heart and I lay them at Your Holy feet…
And in my pain, despite all scars I raise my voice and sing a song to You:

My Darling, I don’t understand Your ways,
And Your reasons make no sense to me…
And even though I try, these wounds I just don’t comprehend.
And these tears don’t make much sense to me…
I keep screaming to the heavens “Why?!”
But there’s only silence and my voice is now broken.
I can’t understand the reasons for my torn up heart,
I only tried to love…
I only tried to be the best for You.
I just don’t understand Your ways,
I just don’t know the reasons for the pain You allow…

But as I watch the flame give light and dance to the winds rhythm,
I know…

Someday, I’ll understand Your every way
And I’ll explain every single tear that day,
Someday, it will all make perfect sense,
I’ll trace my every scar and I will show the world why…
Someday, I’ll remember every single loss
and I’ll see Your perfect love.
Someday, I’ll understand your every way,
It will all make perfect sense that day…

And one day, I’ll stand up tall, right by your side,
And in Your hands will lay my broken heart,
No longer broken…

You’ll answer my every question,
and show me why it had to hurt so bad.

Someday, I’ll understand it all…
And then I’ll say:
Darling, thank you, it was worth it all…

But until then:

I’m on my knees.
The rocks are sharp, the earth’s cold,
But I don’t wear my sandals…

The land I stand on‘s laced in red,
My knees are cut, my feet are torn,
My heart lays here in pieces…
I swallow tears and scream Your name!
I need your Holy whispers…