very much newness.... much
many things, aplenty
it rushes past me
I catch a glimpse
but I don’t know its face
altogether unfamiliar, dissimilar
a stranger
oh my, how new
this fresh flush of the first new day
crisp, cold and voluminous
foreigner
new
newfoundland
-CocoaTea Poetry🌱
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There is a melancholy in the moving.
Growth in all that it produces, can also yield grief.
The old systems versus the new,
the new places with old systems,
the absence of the old systems,
the in-between spaces, places and speech,
It's bittersweet.
Though I do not carry worldly sorrow,
there is still something dying.
Me!
I'm dying and this flesh cries out.
It's screaming in the acrid smoke of the funeral pyre,
but like sati its happening still.
I am not the captain but I will go down with this ship.
- cocoaTea.poetry
A masterpiece where landscapes come and go.
But in this dance of change, my heart feels somewhat blue,
As familiar comforts slowly start to grow, The tides of time, they ebb and flow with grace,
Yet leave behind a melancholy trace.
The old gives way, the new begins its reign,
But in this shift, a part of me remains.
I cling to memories, like shells upon the shore,
A testament to what once was, and now no more.
But in this sadness, hope begins to gleam,
A promise of a future, a vibrant dream.
- cocoaTea.poetry
