Please tell me something poetic. I feel like people lost their sence of seeing th eworld in a poetic world. Especially my generation (i'm 16). But also older generations, sometimes the world just seems so gray. So my question is what is something poetic that recently happend in your life?

My own answer to that would be driving to the bus stop on my bike and everything being completly silent. And right before me I see the most stunning sunrise. It looked like if the sky was on fire. Red and orange were lightend in the sky and i couldn't look away

Question

Please tell me something poetic. I feel like people lost their sence of seeing th eworld in a poetic world. Especially my generation (i'm 16). But also older generations, sometimes the world just seems so gray. So my question is what is something poetic that recently happend in your life?

My own answer to that would be driving to the bus stop on my bike and everything being completly silent. And right before me I see the most stunning sunrise. It looked like if the sky was on fire. Red and orange were lightend in the sky and i couldn't look away

Anonymous Practitioner · Accepted Answer

hi! at the beginning of this year I fell for my flatmate, I told him but he didn't want to have a conversation on the matter so I let go of it as I realized that what I fell for was a collection of things I saw in him that are a reflection myself. He's genuinely one of the best people I ever got to meet and changed me profoundly and I wrote this small poem on the feeling I was experiencing at the time; it's titled "Recollection of a golden frame" or "anatomy of a fall", the latter plays on the feeling of falling for someone and the deepening of the it, while the foremost is due to his golden hair. Hope you'll enjoy it!

May the sun rise once more and may you inhale the aura of affection leaking from my system, for I am once more reminded of the beauty of your presence suspended in the afterimage of you.
May the sun interrupt your sleep and may your heart abandon its measure to the frequency of our encounters, for they are so few yet sufficient to place my consciousness in check, to stall it, to expose it beyond what my selfishness was built to endure.
May the sun press against your skin, insist on you, keep you here, for in that light I imagine my presence finding yours, our misaligned borders getting to melt, mix, and somehow forget one another.
And as your quiet is perturbed, as it is enhanced, may the ghost of me omnipresently persist in every altered gesture, every behavior you did not succumb to before our souls got to see their reflection in the mirror inhabiting our minds (hearts?).
As the breeze exhales a maliciously fading thought and the rays try to escape the clouds' sharp coldness to illuminate the golden revolutions I for so long longed to caress, may we intertwine one last time, as to form a permanent recollection of moments, powerful enough to bring the escape-less ludicrous labyrinths to a baseline.