From Special Guest Iman Assad…

I can see life smiling at me and hear its words of love. I am fully present with my body and soul, totally committed to my dreams, not losing a single precious moment, living every instant with dedication and clarity of mind….

I have no doubts, I trust life and know well that whatever I might encounter or have already encountered so far, were divine gifts sent to me by the heavens and for that I am grateful.

All the pain and tears, all that tiny bits of happiness are equally cherished in my heart; for how could I be what I am today without those parts that have made my life and made me ?!

I am a divine soul, living in the heart of God, protected by him, inspired by the truth of our being.

I move in light

I move in love

I move in gratitude

Opening my heart and mind to all possibilities, firmly believing that I am making my destiny with my own will.

You can find Iman on Facebook

From Special Guest S Lynne Horton…

Alone in a vast field, forgotten by the forest,

Inhibited by the bursts of a violent wind,

Stands a weather beaten and scarcely foilaged tree.

Lacking grandeur befitting the majestic woods,

Banished to wither in this forlorn field alone.

Torrential rains did come and attempt to wash the tender sapling away.

Fiercest winds sought to strip it of its delicate adornments.

Tender and vulnerable a young sapling was adrift in the floods,

Roots sprang forth, tendrils seeking depth in the loose soil carrying it away.

What seemed only a field of weeds,

Offered an embrace in their tangled existence.

That young sapling accepted what was offered in grace,

Caught it became in a field to remain lost and forgotten but growing beneath the surface

Hidden away in the shadows of the swaying wild growth that knew no defeat.

A lone tree sought out light through the untamed hazy cover.

Defying the odds, though misshapen by vicious elements,

It grew and though small and lacking vibrance, it stands alone.

Its roots though hidden beneath the tangled web of unsightly weeds,

Grow deep, holding on tightly to what little it was given,

Accepting grace though found in the dark,

Though not found majestic and stately of beauty,

Testament it gives to more valorous plight,

It is not lost among a luscious forest,

Its beauty is that noticed it has become because it stands alone.

S. Lynne Horton is a thoughtful poet, writer and artist and author of the novel the Emerald Curse. She can found on her blog or via Facebook.

Creeping dismay turns into passion,

power and obsession.

What I need is what I need.

And the passage of the midnight sun

reveals the true essence of being.

And the light shines on forever,

trailing like after-thoughts of today.

And the moment shines on,

like a diamond in the sky,

tracing the spaces of time,

harrowing the thoughts of none.

And I speak only from truth.

Oh boy, do I try.

And soon the fiber will pass through me,

becoming one with me.

And by the passage of the midnight sun

creeps slowly faster, every new day.

The journey never ends and has only just begun.

I sail on the rays of fire, shot down from mars.

And the passage of the midnight sun soothes me,

once again.

Forever and forever and forever – this is my mantra.

Forever in this life and forever in the next,

I will learn because I can and because I will.

Seething the guttural responses and reactions without any thought,

only action and my objection will follow me like a dog.

And by the blind passage of the midnight sun

I am blinded only when I look away.

To see the truth, to inhabit the reality,

imaginary as real, and all I want to do is play tag once more.

And the field is full as usual, yet no one really wants to play.

Yet here I am, cut like a knife, ready to make my stand,

knee deep in the most dangerous place in the world.

By the blind passage of the midnight sun,

I look on in revelation, my true moment has yet to come.

And the moment is building, waiting for me to grab hold,

as it is already there, waiting like the moon of the shadow,

translucent and all bearing,

For all too see, for all to witness,

in this glorious moment and the next.

From Carl Michael Hohol Jr…

Submitted via email two weeks ago by a mystery guest, I asked the writer for a name, a brief bio, or anything else I could use as a background for RELATIVTY OnLine readers , but he or she declined.  Only the name Jyotishman sits at the bottom. I received several poems this past month, but the visual images of this one stayed with me.. as I’m sure they will with you.

He grows older
Just to become a snail
And inhales the frozen vapors’
Of hundred years
He sells his head
In an “x” mart
And searches absinthe
Like a poor Camus

With all the discounts he could afford
Buys a ticket to Auschwitz
To meet Jesus on a Ghetto
The same Jesus whom he met
On an empty confession box
Some years ago…

Even Jesus sells his nails
Of his head
Of hands
And of the soul

Absurd..!

He grows older
Just to become a snail
And when he tries to
Break the shell
The restless wind whispers
“now you can walk
On the edge of a blade
Isn’t it blissful?”

In the streets of Bohemia
Snow covers them all
The dust the blood
And tears..
With a pale woman’s grief
The city cries
And he tries to find the rules
Of the game

Some tried before
with a sinking ship
to cross
the river
“what is not reality”

But when the survival rate comes down to zero
He remembers
Sylvia did the right thing
She put her head on an oven
For freedom, not for
A damn discount
For
The
Ticket
Of heaven.

(c) JYOTISHMAN

The word aphorism denotes an original thought, either spoken or written, presented in a concise and easily remembered form. From Hippocrates to Blaise Pascal, they have been a part of humanity’s literary arsenal for thousands of years. The often profound Marty Rubin lends his work to RELATIVTY Online this month and we are grateful to have him. Pour yourself a cup of coffee, sit back and enjoy these original little snippets of semantic jewels.

How many truths are really true?

When I told the rainbow what its colors meant, it laughed.

If you’re in the fault-finding business, you’ll find me full of faults.

Dreams must be ground into bread and the bread eaten.

I’m the man to call when you need absolutely nothing.

Spend yourself; there’s plenty more.

If it rains tonight, rain will be the cause.

Happiness exists, but not the conditions of happiness.

There is a truth for each occasion, but not for all occasions.

Opinion: a sign of ignorance.

Things put in the wrong place have found a new place.

Lead me not into the corporate world but deliver me from evil.

The wisdom of old age: hardening of the arteries.

Every line is the perfect length if you don’t measure it.

Suppose nothing is wrong. What do you do, then?

Some lives, like some remarks, only make sense out of context.

Words make known. But we live in the unknown.

Tell the truth. It’s more disturbing than telling lies.

Rain is the picnic when it rains.

Press your lips to the fountain and drink life in.

Death is. That’s its only excuse.

Priceless things are things you put no price on.

Real dishes break. That’s how you know they’re real.

He’s the happiest who’s happy with nothing.

Does it really matter who the fastest runner is?

New ideas are nothing new.

New ideas wind up on the same trash heap as the old ones.

The riddle we’ll never solve is how to get along.

Blessed are they who expect nothing, for they’ll be pleasantly surprised.

If you paint a black picture, the picture will be black.

God may be an atheist for all we know.

Humanity will never solve its problems as long as there are people around.

It is incredible the number of things I find not to take seriously.

Lovers of beauty can’t be too discriminating.

If you’re glad to be alive, the rest doesn’t matter.

Cheer up. You don’t have to do anything.

If you need a second to think, it’s too late.

Miracles happen so often they become commonplace.

Bullets that miss the mark travel just as fast.

It’s easier to draw a straight line than to straighten a crooked one.

All rabbits are not the same rabbit. Just as all Roberts are not the same Robert.

What costs me time costs me nothing.

A few names have survived oblivion. In time oblivion will have them all.

Art: a conversation through a locked door.

Boredom is the price one pays for not enjoying everything.

From Marty Rubin. . .

Check out more of Rubin’s work here

 From Tarek Ibrahim…

Between true love and hate

Tender choice and ugly fate

In the rebirth of dusk

Rings the scent of musk

The birds may never wait

For hearts that always hesitate

Little boys burst into cries

Waiting for time to go by

But as days ahead unfold

Persuading us to grow old

We stand furled with regret

Life hurled us into an aging nest

Amid a blue bright sky

Where elusive hearts lie

Distant, far, and cold

Losing sense of a word

Feelings; they were so pure

Emotions; they used to cure

But on one late afternoon

A sun disappeared so soon

In one tear or maybe two

Immersed in an image of you

A message uttered so clear

That we shall no longer hear

A subtle melody so keen

Softened a heart in between

Tears dropped even more

As knocks quaked a wooden door

It echoed alone with no reply

It echoed waiting for an immortal sigh

So slight to wake her sleep

So vast it wounded deep

As a head is laid to rest

Reciting what it knew best:

“Happiness was a serene bliss

Sealed with a gentle kiss

They said troubles were close

Crawled to steal our lonely rose

If only we tried to heal the pain

Alas! We cried loud again

Chaos was around us as we queue

Thoughts got shattered as we knew

That a simple dream is like tender dew

So beautiful, so gentle, so true

But it vanishes just as our spirits do”

“Euphoria in life should never be taken for granted. Time steals an innocent laugh so prematurely”

Born and raised in Kuwait, Tarek Ibrahm is of a Palestinian descent but like many Palestinians, has never seen his homeland. After the Iraqi Invasion of Kuwait in 1990, he fled the war with his parents and immigrated to Canada while still a teen. While he’s not writing poetry, Ibrahim works as an international educator and mathematician.