Time Travel – The Strix

Time Travel – The Strix

“O ostium de tempus, exaudio ut mea vox. Patitur id anima ut transveho quod infinitus spatium de aevum. Ego iubeo vos, APERIO!!”

*sigh*

…gea de stellae ducit mea iter.

(“Oh gates of time, listen to my voice. Allow me this being to travel the infinite vastness of time.  I command you, OPEN!!”

*sigh*

…goddess of the stars guide my journey!)

By Alpe John from The Juandering Artist

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Here and Now

Would you come with me, adventures to see
leave our now and anywhere else, just be?

Explore other times, you and me,
forget our present, for past and future,
dance on spacetime’s fabric of history?

If we could time travel, let’s fly back in time
to watch the pyramids being built in Egypt
spend a day in Pompeii before the big blast
we’d find twenties Paris in spring and dance
around fountains in the Tuileries, hand in hand

If we could steer ourselves anywhere else
in this vast world, let’s land in Thailand
before the tourists, explore pristine beaches
or float in Venice on a gondola, no rush…
before cameras, painting our memories on canvas

We could spend an hour in the Roman senate
watch the birth of democracy with our own eyes
behold the ruins before they became ruins,
stroll down the Via Appia, aqueducts rushing
overhead, lounge in a spa, grapes being fed…

Maybe we could fly to the future ahead,
watch humanity inevitably evolve instead
get a glimpse of life beyond our now
see how Earth fairs or fails
would we want to…or not?

But, if time travel meant
I would not be with you…
I would stay exactly

where I am

here and now,

forever,

always
…us two

By Emily Clapper – Poet Girl Em

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To Reach Out To Those Days

To reach out to those days of innocence

Togetherness, as we shared those laughs

Not sitting in front of the TV screens

But while eating a meal delicious

To reach out to that sense of security

While we played in the community park

Hearty laughs, climbing up the trees

No criminal eyes staring for a kidnap

To reach out to the connection we built

Souls touching each other with affection

Not with the wire of internet modem

But by holding each other’s hands

To reach out to those days of long walks

While walking, when we talked our hearts

Wearing our old canvas shoes

We never missed the comfort of a car

To reach out to those days of health

No one knew of the word ‘depression’

No pills, no capsules, no supplements

Life was cherished, there wasn’t any stress

To reach out to those days so simple yet priceless

Luxury wasn’t anywhere close to us

Still, we lived our lives to the full

Yes, to reach out to those days Wonderful

We need, to travel back in time

Don’t we all sometimes

Crave for a Time Machine

By Zigyasa Kakkar from mySestina

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The Guest

As always, she sat there, writing. Something very intense and dark, the usual genre she wrote. She was so fierce in her thoughts, so quick with the pen and paper, engrossed enough to not notice the feather light wind that traced her hair. But soon, she was shadowed, by a large figure standing behind her. She turned around, seeing a creepily familiar face.

“Howdy?” the sound raised the hairs at the back of her neck.

“Do I know you?” She asked.

“No.” the uninvited guest answered.

“How did you get in? The doors are closed”

“Because you will be here, ten years from now.”

And then she knew that she was herself. It was like looking into the mirror, sure, a mirror in future. Was this a dream? She was scared, but did not want to be scared of herself. She gulped and the guest noticed.

Was I that afraid of myself? My future? “, the guest asked.

And yet again the irony pushed her to think. There was a long pause.

“I….” she was speechless.

You look so beautiful.”

“You do too

And she realized, yet again that she loved herself.

“How is it like to grow up, how is life going to be?”

“It will be just like you want it to be. Just be you. You’ll do great”

“Why are you here?” she was eager and still bent upon knowing about her future even if it was in a dream.

“To let you know that you are going to make it there, to the future.” The guest said, with a beautiful smile.

And considering what she was going through in present, that was all she wanted to hear. And that smile, was her motivation, even if it was a dream. That is IF it was a dream.

By Kashaf Shaikh – A Word Warriors Blog

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Time Travel

In its sweet time the music plays, the beats pick up,

Casting a spell it has you compel,

To enter the place you love. Inside your mind,

Where memories unwind and play before your eyes,

That stare blank, while you travel through time,

To that place, that moment, it takes you back there,

That memory, that time, that you hold so dear,

The words push you near, your heart beating to the,

Conducting hands of the clock, you walk,

Sitting still, and laugh without noise,

The music giving rise, to an orchestra of emotions,

That all play at once, overwhelming your senses,

In a good way, but sometimes bad, though,

This one makes you glad, you lived and laughed,

And cried, and now your tears are dried, while,

You’re sitting in your chair, lips forming a smile,

To take with you as the beats die down,

Those memories once again are bound,

Until the next song plays and takes you away.

By Michelle Joseph from Psychedelic Bay

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Travel through time, wouldn’t it be marvelous? Back to the past and restore errors, a quick peek into the future to find out, if we humans still exist in fifty years. No longer have to wait until your loved one, family member; colleague awakes in a different time zone.

However, making mistakes is important; without those mistakes we wouldn’t even know what we don’t want, wouldn’t know how we could improve. Collecting all the answers of the future through a time-travel; the (wonderful) process of inventing, researching, learning will be unnecessary. Let’s be honest, don’t you wish occasionally someone close to you to a different time zone? Plus, if you really want to be close to a loved one, family member or colleague; who or what is retaining you…truly?

“Nothing is impossible”

Unfortunately, with a snap of your fingers travel a few years forward or back in time, it isn’t possible. Time-travel is still a fantasy, although fantasy can be a wonderful method to travel through time.

Close your eyes, wherever you are standing, sitting, or lying down right now. Think of a loved one. Do you see the face? Do you hear the voice, the sparkling smile? Do you smell the scent of hair and skin? Do you feel the touch? Do you feel the loving energy?

Snap

Back in the present, in the moment.

Take that loving energy with you,

Wherever,

Whenever,

You travel.

 

By Patty Wolters from Kruidje-Roer-Me-Niet

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Expressions Crossing Continents

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The Strix – Metamorphosis

The Strix – Metamorphosis

Biological speaking an example is the butterfly. Evolve out of the caterpillar into a butterfly happens automatically, it’s a natural process. The caterpillar trusts in the power of nature, trusts her own instinct, and becomes a wonderful creature. 

Mythological speaking an example is Zeus, God of Ancient Greece, who transformed himself into a bull to seduce Europe, a goddess of love. He succeeded and brought Europe to a strange continent and left her. Aphrodite, Goddess of love, found her there and said:

“Let the bridle and grumbling, pretty girl! The hated bull will come and offer you his horns; I’m the one who sent you this dream. To your consolation, it is Zeus that robbed your virginity: now you’re the earth goddess of the invincible god. Immortal your name will become, since the strange continent that has absorbed you, shall be called from now on Europe! “

Magical speaking wizards and witches transformed various objects and people for good and bad purposes. A Prince turned into a frog by a witch, could only transform back after a kiss from a Princess.

We don’t have the powers of wizards and witches, gods and goddesses.
We do have the power to think, to transform to whoever we want to be.

Who do you want to be?

Patty from Kruidje-Roer-Me-Niet

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It had been there for days. The small, mint green bud, hanging by a small stem, on a small plant in her backyard. Lilly wondered what Mr. Tiger was planning. She called him that because he was black with vivid green stripes all over that reminded her of a tiger. He had hidden himself inside that thing for more than a week. Lilly was very worried at the start because she couldn’t feed Mr. Tiger his lettuce anymore, the way she did every day before he wrapped himself up.

She complained to her father about Mr. Tiger. Was he upset with her? She didn’t want him to leave so soon. Her father chuckled and carried her so she could see outside the kitchen window where Mr. Tiger was cocooned.

“Do you think he’s sleeping?” She had asked.

“I think he’s planning a surprise for you, Lilly,”

She squealed at that. Lilly loved surprises. Since then, she had made sure to check on Mr. Tiger every day so she wouldn’t miss her surprise. Today, Lilly did the same. She sat watching the small bud, which had changed a lot in the week. It had a pretty pattern on it and she wondered if Mr. Tiger drew it himself. Just as she did, it shook.

She reared back in surprise, gasping. Its happening! It shook again and Lilly leaned closer so she could see better. His antennas poked out first and then. . . She furrowed her eyebrows. Slowly, the shell around Mr. Tiger fell away as two beautiful wings emerged.

“Surprise!” Her father smiled, crouching next to her.

“Daddy! What’s happened to Mr. Tiger?” She couldn’t look away from the emerging ‘Mr. Tiger’ even for a second. He wasn’t green and black and chubby anymore. She watched, awestruck, as his new and delicate wings expanded, after being squished in that magic bud.

“He’s changed now into a beautiful butterfly, see?”

Lilly saw him test his wings out, spreading them across his back.

“But why?”

“Well. . . That’s how nature works. It’s one way nature shows us that beauty is in simplicity. And if you allow change to occur, you can morph into something beautiful, like Mr. Tiger did,”

Lilly watched the butterfly flutter, taking its first flight.

Michelle from Psychedelic Bay

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And now she rises, immortal,
From the million fallen pieces,
The ones she combined after all,
Afraid of the dark faces,
She feared every fall,
For she be but still fragile,
She still grew inside her,
Like the little fire, cold for a while,
And that which burnt bigger now,
Somewhere deep within,
It made her grow,
And so she did,
Along with burns and scars,
She bolstered the joints,
She stitched those pieces,
And grew further, towards the stars,
She grew,
Whole, elegant and new,
Born again from the million pieces,
That the dark had broken her into,
Now she fought with the night,
Using the ever growing fire inside.

Kashaf Shaikh from A Word Warriors Blog

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Have you heard of the story of the ugly duckling? I’m sure we all have. And as kids, we might have even dreamed of a similar transformation–when you finally grow into a woman’s body with the perfect curves, or for the boys, to grow strong, with 6-pack abs and big biceps. That’s all good and well. But not all transformations are physical. There are some that take place deep deep down in our being. Like the one I’m about to tell.

This is a story about Sammy and Samantha.

Sammy runs around the house riding her broomstick pretending she is a witch. Her broomstick would take her everywhere she want, from the great castle called The Bedroom, to the enchanted land of The Yard. Samantha runs her breath out trying to catch the bus.

Samantha is horrified of sweets! She’s on a strict diet, you see. Sammy’s favorite food are cake, candies, tarts, pie, and oh!..candies.

Sammy believes on princes and fairy godmothers, of tales about love, valor, and living happily ever after. Samantha’s living her own love story, where there’s no prince or kingdoms or castles to be seen. In fact, she had her heart broken yet again. A fairy godmother would be most welcome now.

Samantha only sings in the bathroom, where no one can hear. Sammy sings to the beat of Timon and Pumbaa, even when half the class is listening.

Sammy would have fun under the rain, jumping on puddles and chasing her dog round and round the yard until Mom tells her to get inside. Whenever it’s pouring, Samantha sulks under the mattress listening to emo songs.

Samantha walks out and locks in her room when scolded. Sammy listens and apologizes.

Sammy is excited every Halloween because it’s the only time she gets to put on makeup. Samantha does it almost everyday to hide her puffy eyes.

Samantha. Sammy.

The two of them are so different, don’t you agree? They are almost opposites, actually. But would you believe me if I tell you that they are one and the same. Surely, the metamorphosis did not happen overnight. It took years, but she didn’t notice herself changing day after day. Until days became months, and months to years. Until finally now. What happened to that happy girl who used to laugh and love the world? What have become of her mirth? Why does she feel heavier. How can she fly, with all her heart’s burden?

Fly. Can a cocoon fly?

No. Not yet.

Alpe John – The Juandering Artist

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The greatest of tales as narrated by TIME

Witnessed to go beyond eternity

it’s about a journey

That started with a little warmth

A magical experience so soothing and calm

Minutes passed and then did hours

Gradually, the warmth turned Cruel to heat unbearable

Species of all kind, started to pale

The journey slowed down, even came to a halt

Life was about to declare its extinct

Glaring up to the sky with hands two folded

They decided to pray for a little mercy

It happened then – a secret miracle

The Sun metamorphosed to a Moon

Bringing a breeze to shower the life

The Orange started to turn into white

There was no heat, the journey was smooth

Life, taking its time to relish the cool

Inevitable, the cool progressed to freeze

They all had to wake up from their dream

Once more, they all decided to pray

Looked up to the sky, then closed their eyes

Their lips murmured a few words of magic

And the Moon metamorphosed to the Sun

Showering

ELIXIR of LIFE on LIFE

Zigyasa Kakkar from mySestina

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Rebirth

First bated breath:
powder blue to flushed pink

fragile, screaming, dependent, weak

infantile form, vulnerable, soft and pale

downy fuzz, eyes blurry, seeking milk

Cells divide, new tougher skin grows

heart pounds with skeptical hope

in time learning to walk, run, trip

hardier human form takes shape

Thrown callously into earthly wake

millions of eons of history before her

being hardened, jaded with pain

she smiles past precarious pasts

Opens her molting heart fast

shedding scars each time it cracks

it only heals stronger, adapts

Metamorphosis perhaps…

That predictable constant — change

the only thing that stays the same

in time she has shed herself, become

a whole new her, never succumbed

Entirely new heart, new eyes

new love, new breath, new skies

to view upon the broken world

with hope that truth optimizes

Her constant redesign, her rebirth…

Until one day…wings sprout forth

from her back, set her to lofty flight

above the looming black, into the light

her white feathers illuminating her path

Transformation complete

…she soars.

Emily Clapper from Poet Girl Em

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Expressions Crossing Continents

The Strix – Hope

The Strix – Hope

Here’s to those who live by in this world one day at a time doing what the world asks of them. Who turned a struggle into an addiction and desire into compulsion. Those who spend every night on their bed, mind drowned in thoughts, heart unwanting to beat. . . You hold onto your wait for better days to come, and tell yourself that they won’t.

You hope. . .

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Art by Alpe John

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Hope Is…

not a heart in a tree…

not loftily floating out of reach

not sitting on a gilded throne

not residing in some mystical realm

It is not guarded by angels high

glittered by faerie dust

or plucked from a flower garden

planted by seeds of heart hardened

An illusion…this word, these letters four

cannot be grasped by hands rich or poor

it is not attainable by prayers

it will not bow on command

It is not tangible or visible

it dances to no one’s tune

you cannot buy it with money

it does not arrive gift-wrapped

Hope is…

when you are beaten down

when the smile is replaced by a frown

when you are on your bruised knees

and you decide to stand on sore feet

It is the moment you want to give in…but don’t

it is when your heart feels like breaking

yet you break it open wide, again and again

daring to love despite the risk present

It is when you wake up in the morning

when you didn’t want to…and rise
It is when you refuse to succumb

to the pounding of the dark tides

Hope is composed of the moments you decide

to continue your path despite all there is to spite

it’s knowing that there is always light, your light,

even in the darkest of night

Hope is stained, dirty, tattered,

it is born from the ashes of the phoenix

You are
that phoenix…

and,

Hope
is you.

~ Emily Clapper from PoetGirlEm

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Bathed in soft lilacs, blues,
Filtering hues of colour through,
A veil of white while the outcomes wait,
Are they reflected in the colours,
You see from where you lay?
Will you stay here longer?
Will you wait another day?
The eye of heaven watches,
Blazing hot under its gaze,
Your patience sizzles and,
Your courage boils, still,
Boils again, as you stay in the shadow,
Though the sun shines high,
Over your skin where you lay,
Will you stay here longer?
Will you wait another day?
A fleeting dart of dark flies,
Once, twice, over your head,
Free to roam free of charge,
Its flight light from all the,
Things that it doesn’t carry,
And all you do is watch from where you lay,
Will you stay here longer?
Will you wait another day?
In hope that tomorrow,
Would bring new colour,
Or in hope that tonight,
Would bring new change?
Your eyes search the sky,
Where the sun starts to melt,
In hope of finding answers,
In hope of being felt,
While you mind mingles with thoughts,
Your heart whispers you this:
Don’t stay here longer,
Don’t wait another day.

~ Michelle Joseph from Psychedelic Bay

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Hope is courage. Hope is the strength. Being like the last piece of breath, the last drop of water, the last breath you take, hope requires courage to live on the last of everything you have. Hope is that faint, vague presence of light in complete darkness.

I believed and then I did not, I trusted, and then I did not. But hope remained, in hiding, camouflaged with the thousands thoughts running. Hope always stays. Like that good friend who shall never leave your side. Hope is always there, all you have to do is find yours! All you have to do is to hope for the light to arrive, in time.

~ Kashaf Shaikh from awordwarriorsblog

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You look at night to the sky above and only see darkness.
Your head filled with noise.
Why even breathe.
It is so easy to get lost, losing yourself in the world we live in today.
It’s so easy to surrender to desperation.
Disappearing in the darkness.

The world has changed.

Give way to someone with less errands at the supermarket? Unthinkable: you’ve been waiting yourself for two minutes. Once, it was natural to talk to your lonely elderly neighbor, now you act as if you didn’t see her. So busy with self-imposed duties. Worry about what is happening around the globe? No way, enough burdens on your own plate.

The world has changed.

We take less and less time for each other. We rather assume the worst about a person, instead of taking the time to find out the reason why someone does, what he/she does. Chopping each other’s heads, bombing one another, since trying to understand each other’s ancient culture, values, opinions, feelings seems to be too difficult.

The world has changed.

Embrace the beauty of darkness.
Hear the whispering of life.
Breathe.
You’re not alone, more beautiful souls in the world, waiting to be found.
Cry, hurt, scream, fear, smile, laugh, dance, care.
Step into the circle of life.

HOPE

 ~ Patty from kruidje-roer-me-niet

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His name was Afzal, no more than seven,

A child innocent, a victim of war,

Just a few days back, I had met him,

While, covering the bombings in Afghanistan,

The sight of the blasts horrendous & scary,

With lifeless bodies, ripped off flesh,

A few of them who survived the blasts,

Ran, for a little mercy in horror,

Broken houses screamed in silence,

Small children wounded and bleeding,

Cried in the streets unattended,

There I had seen this boy with courage,

Holding a white flag in his hands,

Sitting by the side of his lifeless father,

Surprisingly, I saw no tears in his eyes,

I moved closer to hear his whispers,

“Father, your son is strong to shed no tears,

To change things for better, I am going out there,

Holding a flag of peace in my hand,

Every beat of my heart, beating in hope,

Determined to melt the hearts of those demons,

How I hope to turn them to humans,

I remember your words, they echo in my mind,

The day will come, there shall be peace,

No more pain, no one will die anymore,

No sight of bloody bodies on the roads,

Holding my flag so white and flawless,

I shall march, I shall not give up,

My hope persistent to conquer the inhuman,

For I shall not let my children to witness,

A world so wounded, chained by terrorism.”

~ Zigyasa Kakkar from mySestina

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“Hope is a thin line between holding on and giving up. It will never turn real unless one acts and wills.”

~  Cezane

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Expressions Crossing Continents

The Strix

The Strix

Hello My Dear Friends! I am glad to announce to be a part of a new Project – The Strix!

The Strix is a group of six talented bloggers who came together to stand as a one big happy family. The unconditional love within the six is endless, as much as it is powerful, and we aim to channel it out to the rest of the world as a unit to those who are in need.

We use art to express what’s real whilst each individual rises to ideal. The Strix are made up of six souls, who rose from ashes to man and now from man to stars that want to appear during the day in the presence of the sun.

To do seemingly the impossible by reaching out to every soul in the world, like the sun does during the day.

 
The Six Souls include:
 
Cezane and Michelle – Psychedelic Bay
Emily Clapper – Poet Girl Em
Patty Wolters – Kruidje-Roer-Me-Niet
Alpe John – The Juandering Artist
Zigyasa Kakkar – mySestina
Kashaf Shaikh – A Word Warriors Blog
 
Learn more about The Strix here:

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