Apples make a great source of vital nutrients. Not only do apples taste delicious, but they also come in a variety of flavors, shades, and colours. Ranging from shades of green, light to dark yellow, pink and all the way to dark red. As for their flavors: very sour to very sweet.
The importance of an apple has made it into the story of Adam and Eve, to Newton’s discovery of Gravity, and to Apple Inc. it is clear enough that an apple has a sublime source of bliss in and for our lives. Also, an apple is as picky in how it decides to show up in our lives, as how we would like to pick it.
I think it is the only fruit in the world that has picked humanity in ways we never imagined a fruit could.
My personal preference in apples is for the Golden Delicious. I like it because it’s sweet and crunchy, and can replace an unhealthy sweet-tooth craving quite well for me. It also reminds me of my childhood. I always chose it among all the other apple varieties.
The benefits of apples are numerous; from essential vitamins, insoluble fiber, to natural antioxidant. Besides, they taste great being baked in a pie.
So here is a crunchy tanka I wrote for apple lovers:
Golden Delicious: Its saccharine, lustful burst Makes a fancy sweet Granting health longevity As essential as pure gold.
Always left at the same place where my fragmented pieces were for them to deem
In my sleep I have the key to access those memories
Where I still have questions unanswered, with pains that were destined to be buried; either my fragments or them.
I saw clowns thriving on the grass of prosperity, and victims trying to pave their rejected ways among the harsh.
Though in a dream, what could be impossible, if everything the heart misses or wishes is accessible.
They deceived some of our innocence; while they carried around the honor of adulting. As if their excuse is a wisdom guarantee, while for the children, it is their trapping destiny.
But this child’s reality, is a new world for the child to keep getting in, forever in their minds until growing. Some places are meant to be visited in reality, to finally resolve while their eyes are open, rather than a germ that keeps infesting their dreams.
A family is not always there to protect, they are likely to be adults in wolf skin, unbothered to replace it with a sheep’s one; as what could a child really know about reality?
Dreams do relieve what is hidden, yet they are also called dreams for a reason; to resolve pain, or to wish for something better.
Across the oblique road corner from where I was placed on the diner seat, suffocating in the spiciness of the meal, I jerked my hand to someone outside the window glass, Thinking it was you! All I wanted you to know is that I was still there, in case you were able to make it today before Sunday! I fell captive in a momentary urge that caught me in the most unprolific substantial tendency of waving my hand to someone I thought I knew. I assume Halloween was still predominant in the air; playing tricks on the mind. But she looked like you; the width of shoulders and hair, with almost the same face. I whispered words to myself, that only I could hear. I think she knew I was mistaken, but I was still excited to see her! She left with someone else, the last thing I saw was a little smile in her eyes… she grew further and further away, but your spirit was still all around me.
Through the passage of time’s memory The universe declares all sensory By the means of energetic spectrum Along the chronology of wisdom For the liveliness of its lucid mass Materializing like transparent glass Thereby an intense profusion of guise Tinting sundry colours into the eyes While embodying magnetism in display Through its penetrating, cryptic way In all things; among darkness and daylight Hence pure quiddity resides at its might The sublime source of Energy’s empire Alternating between both ice and fire.
For all the faces of a crystal They are all made of stones Conserving its sacred essential In many dimensions and tones Inside mountain bones Under the laws of heat On lands and in all seas So wherever it lays, its gleam will greet Like fruits of bliss found on trees For the beauty it admits, pleases all it sees As a crystal holds protection And from Earth’s essence it stems Through the journey of compression Producing life with gems That comply to ancient tastes, and to all modern trends Gems are gifts indeed Out of Earth’s crystal seed
As life formation began in space, with theory of relativity to put it all in place From Mercury to Neptune, in opposite ways Running circles in an endless race As each has a separate phase Of various states, weights, and rates More like siblings, relatives, and mates Grounded by the holy Sun’s grace; With a Moon celebrating Earth’s face Inspiring the night as it sings and plays To evoke the essence of all Earth’s waves Like emotions, weathers, nights and days The family of space recites all fates abiding to the law of time and dates As space history to time relates In the Milky Way of our Earth’s case
Poetry by Farah A.Y
I will share my belief on what a space family is:
Since the Sun of our Solar system is the source of life, the igniter, the stabilizing force of life. in other words, the father of our solar system, it is the light that we are in constant need of reaching, and achieving throughout our life’s endeavors. This has been the case since ancient philosophies and civilizations; stating that the Sun is the source of life, a Devine power—a deity.
Earth is not a lonely planet. Earth has siblings, and relatives. There is a whole history (tree) of planetary family in the vast space.
The moon is equivalent to the mother figure. A source of inspiration, that stirs up the essence of life’s waves, causing change, birth and rebirth. The moon is the mother of our earth; she watches over the earth at night, and she controls the Earth’s cries through its influence on sea and ocean tides.
The other planets surrounding the Earth are important in keeping each other in balance. As siblings proving support for one another.
The story of our Universe is the story of our lives. We are only replicating the stories decoded in our genes out into our visible world . We are designed to do it in that sense. Besides the Darwinian Theory, which adds to making us social beings.
I thought I was still good at stretching down my legs, to their maximum capacity. I know I could when I was around the age of eight. But, not any more. It has certainly advanced, well, into a mental stretch that takes in the form of a spin. It no longer involves my body, only my mind. And, I kept feeding into this quality, many different things. I say things; because they are indeed, only just things.
This baseline of my experience is the pole that sets the stage for my mental dance. Like a Ballerina who is anxiously happy during the continuous clapping of an audience over her victory. Or, in the way a piece of chocolate dissolves so sweetly in my mouth, while my tongue cradles this sweet taste. For when the piece is there, it only requires me to situate it correctly.
And in between every other hour, life destroys that flavor. It isn’t really life, but it’s what makes life, life. Which diminishes the sweetness eventually. That is, mostly to do with, other worldly rotations taking place in the form of becoming, or in the process of walking down the path of familiarity; a road often taken, but very little understood.
In some mornings, reality is as atrocious as feeling suspended from the motion of life, of existence, and of the circulation of the biological forces within the body. Leaving it to reality to make it up for the mind; for why should we spin along the rotation of our earth (unconsciously) while mentally spinning in our heads (consciously and unconsciously), is not always a helpful thing?’
Aren’t we but thoughts roaming around on this earth? Aren’t we made of lessons, experiences, and especially of feelings—to formalize and color such findings?
In other mornings, the mental spins of others are louder than the sound of one’s own breath. So much so that it infests like a spider’s web—that builds up slowly, yet orderly and tightly into each of our tranquil streams. As for me, when my siege gets broken, its scattered pieces become painful pins thrown at me and against my own will.
The only consistent aspect of it all is that we are but a bundle of a spinning life, a rotation within another rotation. In an endless loop of spinning thoughts. This mixture is vital for generating us with potentials that result from chaos and order. It is a never-ending process of rediscovering the question of ‘what could happen next?’
Throughout the nights, the mind is at refuge—peaceful but unpromising. hopeful, but undeniable of its long day of loss, joy, or trouble. But, what difference does it make when the night approaches? As the earth will still spin, and the dynamic of life will continue on. We must permit ourselves to blend in with ourselves first, colorfully, then apply that to our understandings of the complexity in both chaos and order. Also, by letting the infusion of these colliding forces set in, so that we could beget the brushes needed for our painted spins, and to submit to our inner life which is obeyed by the outer forces of life.