The Linguist: Secret Garden of the Unspoken

A word
Ageing in my lips
Uttered softly
Carried by the wind
Across the world
Diffusing into every soul
And heart
Melting with remorse
That it was spoken
A secret broken
A gentle invitation
Into hanging gardens
On clouds surreal
Above the skies
A land where speech
Is not required
A place where words are chosen
Faithfully every year
Strawberry trees
Slowly grown
Slowly picked
Slowly savored
On silent banquets
For the deaf and dumb
Sprinkled across the skies
Like rain
Shared with all the ramblers
Let them ramble
A word
A gateway towards that paradise
Consumed by its existence
In watery mouths with chewing gum
Until it disappears

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Character: 97/100
To all the people that appreciate the power of words, the magic of speech and the gift of human interaction. To all the people that know when to speak and when not to.

The Eskimo: Arctic Mantra

In my igloo
I am free
Alone, but rich in contemplation
Bare-fated but secure
In this arctic tundra
This world does not forgo
Those who dwell
In love’s warming presence

Close them
Seal the lids forever
Be in darkness
Be the darkness in your eyes

Undress yourself
Embrace your worries
Embrace your fears
And jump into the icy sea
Sink towards the core of your existence
And let go forever of all the weight

Open up and breathe
Breathe deep and long
Allow the bits of ice to fill your lungs
Look towards that distant meadow
Feel the grass field’s tickle
Trapped between the ice
But alive

Play along with time
But always know
That time does not define your life
Your actions now, reverberate
Throughout the universe forevermore

Rise again
Cold, naked, drenched in water and alone
But free
Free from pain
Free from meaning
Beyond what is right and wrong
You build an igloo
In this cold barren world
And live like me
An immortal Eskimo
In the kingdom of tundra
We are all free