Authentic

Lost and found in this world
This is what I got
This is what I became
Some strange and unique mesh
Of heart, spirit and mind
Of history, company, upbringing and luck
How could I ever pretend
That I am someone else?
How could I ever hide
Behind some curtain to fit in?
For better or worse
I now am who I am
The one who that child became
The seed of the one I will become

Marcus Antoninus

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At home in wilderness

What else is tranquility
if not this gentle breeze
blowing lazily over the fresh mountain grass?
What else is purity
if not this cold meltwater stream
bringing life to whatever it touches?

Lost on remote mountain passes
living a life simple but full of meaning
amid granite, condors and glaciers
my heart becomes one with the planet
and I find my true self as part of something larger
as a gentle Sun shines upon my inner garden.

Marcus Antoninus

Resurgence

out of this entangled mess
I need to brake and emerge
put my burned out soul to rest
back to my passion connect myself
set to bloom and grow again
in a meaningful resurgence
for whatever is left of my days
the late spring of my heart

Marcus Antoninus

Mysteries of communication

Whatever we call reality
Even if such a thing exists
Will forever remain elusive
A truly hard picture to paint
Partly objective and measurable
Partly interpreted and beyond form
Whatever we experience and remember
Whatever we tell others and ourselves
Goes well beyond events and things themselves
And delve deep into the intricacies of the self
With our story, upbringing, environment and brains
Steering up swirls of joy, fears and hopes
Forming myriad of mental images and verdicts
No matter if right or wrong
Without ever telling us a thing
We frenetically spun those stories
That we will tell ourselves
Oh! How on Earth are we going to communicate?
How can I tell you the way I perceive my world?
So you see the same thing as I do?
How can we reach a common ground?
How can we steer away of conflict
And reach that dreamed of future
Of peace, understanding and love?

Marcus Antoninus

Where the river flows

infused with the fury of spring
a mighty young river flows
powerful and hopeful
with the buoyancy of youth
although unbeknownst to it
whatever rocks it may move
wherever it goes at the end
its force remains deeply constrained
by mountains long ago built
by framing ideas that persist
thick influences lingering past their due
as it happens to us as well
deeper than we can know
we keep flowing ahead
sometimes meandering around
towards a vast and distant sea

Marcus Antoninus