Aberjhani Quotes - Page 3

With my ninth mind I resurrect my first
and dance slow to the music of my soul made new.

In a rich moonlit garden, flowers open beneath the eyes of entire nations terrified to acknowledge the simplicity of the beauty of peace.

In this quiet place on a quiet street
where no one ever finds us
gently, lovingly, freedom gives back our pain.
-from poem In a Quiet Place on a Quiet Street

When a reader enters the pages of a book of poetry, he or she enters a world where dreams transform the past into knowledge made applicable to the present, and where visions shape the present into extraordinary possibilities for the future.

A poet is a verb that blossoms light in gardens of dawn, or sometimes midnight.

The music of revelation announces itself to the reader in somber brooding tones or in melodies light as air and one is invited to dance with the most captivating of partners: poetry.

Unless you are here: this garden refuses to exist.
Pink dragonflies fall from the air
and become scorpions scratching blood out of rocks.
The rainbows that dangle upon this mist: shatter.
Like the smile of a child separated
from his mother’s milk for the very first time.
-from poem Blood and Blossoms

Everywhere we shine death and life burn into something new…

The death of a dream can in fact serve as the vehicle that endows it with new form, with reinvigorated substance, a fresh flow of ideas, and splendidly revitalized color. In short, the power of a certain kind of dream is such that death need not indicate finality at all but rather signify a metaphysical and metaphorical leap forward.

Oh what a wonderful soul so bright inside you. Got power to heal the sun’s broken heart, power to restore the moon’s vision too.

Compassion crowns the soul with its truest victory.

Souls reconstructed with faith transform agony into peace.

Humanity is not without answers or solutions regarding how to liberate itself from scenarios that invariably end with mass exterminations. Tools such as compassion, trust, empathy, love, and ethical discernment are already in our possession. The next sensible step would be to use them.

Rainbows introduce us to reflections
of different beautiful possibilities
so we never forget that pain and grief
are not the final options in life.

History dressed up in the glow of love’s kiss turned grief into beauty.

You are the hybrids of golden worlds and ages splendidly conceived.

On faith’s battered back calm eyes etch prayers that cool a nation’s hot rage.

Death wins nothing here,
gnawing wings that amputate––
then spread, lift up, fly.

In your hands winter
is a book with cloud pages
that snow pearls of love.

In the days when hyenas of hate suckle the babes of men, and jackals of hypocrisy pimp their mothers’ broken hearts, may children not look to demons of ignorance for hope.