Imagine having to sing every day at a place you don’t like for people you don’t care about. After you come home to your tiny broom closet of an apartment, would you still have the energy to create more? Probably not.

My Own Broken Mirror

It’s my perfect distortion
My face mirrored, and split by emotion
Toyed with and tainted as I move
From one to another, I fit to the grooves

Of the loose ends of sharpness that gather to unite
To be perfectly fitted
And renewed to the mirrored spite
Unnoticeably broken
But brittle and rough
Stand from afar, and admire the muffs

Help with the pane
Move to uncertainty
Lure the cheery light
And cure my fearful fright.

It’s my perfect distortion
That I recognize so well
But help me see
What the others see but tell.
Are the pieces lost?
Slipped through the cracks?
Fallen through to the dangerous high acts?
I’ll never know of my pieces that are missing.
Mold the old to fit the space
Kiss the glass, even of bad taste

Forever, but never made
To be new
Just molded and distorted
To create a familiar you

Of mirrored light, broken,
But Forever Bright.
Please stay with the brittle pane
Until the sun goes down
And pain fades
And new lights of distorted beauty
Reign again

Old Age Despair

OLD AGE DESPAIR

What good the golden hoard, the noble fame
Of heroes or the praise of younger Man?
The hand of Death makes Man but a mere name
And none may linger longer than the span
Of years which fickle Fate allots.

We start to die when we begin to live.
The ages pass and we and all our kin
Are dead and those who died can only give
Scant recompense for all we did. Oh! What a sin
To live at all. Our whole life rots!

Is there a God who looks upon our toil?
Does He not watch our progress and approve
Our every act? Are we but soil
That lie beneath this Earth never to move?
Man dies when he is dead and ties the knots
Around him in the silent graveyard plots.

                                                                              Hugh L.M.Wyles 2003

The Desert Festival of Jaisalmer

Desert Festival of Jaisalmer is the most awaited and famous cultural and colourful event of Rajasthan. Camel races, Turban-tying and Mr. Desert competitions are organised. It is held in the month of February every year. The festival showcases Rajasthani folk songs and dance and it is very attractive to foreign tourists. Gair and Fire dancers which are the major attraction of the Jaisalmer desert festival celebrations. This is the best time to visit Jaisalmer to witness performing arts like Kalbelia dances and folk songs and music.

🎨✨ What's your favorite art movement and why? From the fluid lines of Impressionism to the bold colors of Expressionism, each era has its unique charm. Share your thoughts and let's dive into the world of creativity! #ArtDiscussion #ArtLovers #CreativeCommunity

The newly-constructed Studio Museum in Harlem captures, in its dazzling collection and alumni show, just how expansive and unifying — globally and locally — Black identity is. https://t.co/dK6NI9rwnN

Never Broken

My heart is in your hands. What will you do with it?
I give it freely; I've not had it broken before.
I may not deserve it, but I hope we end together.
We may not make it, but we have to try, right?
How could we sacrifice what we have, something so beautiful.
These are the things dreams are made of, that which we have,
Things sometimes never achieved.
We have.

You tell me you're mine, if I ever want you.
How could you even doubt it?
I never have.

You say you're independent - so am I.
You don't want to be tied down too early.
I'll help you fly.

You say you don't want to spend eternity without me.
What kind of God would do that to us?
Not any God of mine.

Time wasted on meaningless pastimes, without you.
So many things I want you to see, to be with me through.
I can't wait for the day I never leave you, together.
The day we become one, in God's eyes, forever.

Love does not begin to say it all.

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