human beings

What is truth?

It is timelessness.

Infinity. And yet, it is that which is always new,

Constantly creating, changing,

Experienced in quiet and solitude.



And with all of its anticipated fear,

Mystique, and intrepidation, 

We seek it....endlessly.

And when we think,

The truth no longer exists in our experience.


What is a mystery?

A mystery is the unknown.

The innocence of a child's mind is open to mystery, and creation,

And what is known, creates the death of a mystery.


What is LOVE?

LOVE ... is the most powerful entity in the universe.

It is presently undefined in a way all human beings agree upon.

No science can define it.


Ahhh...but we all "speak" of love. We tell our children we "love" them,

We tell our families we "love" them...

our friends, sometimes even our co-workers,

and even sometimes those we do not even know, or have never even met.

We sign cards and gifts with fancy closing statements signed:

"Love, Me".


We're eager to talk about the latest gossip column,

Judge and ruthlessly criticize the "love" of another,

Labeling it as "worthy" or "unworthy".

And yet, when all the outer layers are peeled away from this word,

This "entity of energy" that has moved mountains,

And summoned armies that have slaughtered millions of innocents,

We really do not understand it.

We do not know what it is!

We only know what the minds of history past have said it is.

Words. Words written.

We have yet to define it in such a way that we all agree upon,

And strangely, in some magickal way, 

Many of of us seem to know what it is on a level that is untouched in a tangible way.


What it is, is a mystery. 

LIFE and LOVE are mysteries, and perhaps, 

Even one and the same.


But we...scurry along through our hurried and cluttered lives,

Mindlessly injecting our man-made answers into love,

And so for many, it is no longer a mystery.

It has become a tightly closed capsule of 

"He said, she said, History".


And the species lives on,

With eyes that do not see,

Ears, that do not hear,

And voices that speak of a "love" and a "truth",

They can only claim unto themselves is "known",

Rather than face the TRUTH of the mystery 

Within us all.


And to me,

Strange and delusional as it may sound to some,

To all sounds like "God" is talking.


Kindness is no mystery.

It is like a seed planted to grow a tree full of LOVE,

And when I leave this earthly experience,

Perhaps the small seeds I plant

Will grow into trees that bear the fruit for others

With faith --

Not in histories,

But in beautiful mysteries.




This poem written in dedication to the late great Maya Angelou, who often wrote of life, and love.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written for spoken word in #periscopeartchallenge on September 10th, 2015. The theme was "mystery".

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justanotherscreename's picture



KindredSpirit's picture

I like this

It is strange that I think of myself

As a poet

But have never read any of the poets

I just read this right now

Cuz my friends did

And I have that little screen too

Where I cant adopt no friends

But my friend line is open


allets's picture

Love As Mystery

Glad to see you posting a piece you wrote in a spokenword challege. Maya was not one of my favorite poets, but she was prolific and repesentative poets everywhere regarding great love personally and in her work. Your prose tribute to love's definition as illusive and claimed by everyone as "known" is marvelously presented. Faith would be first as the greatest mystery on my list, but love and faith are intertwined - living the late part of my life, love sustains me, faith conquers a complex of fears. Wonderful tribute, though provoking write. You have been missed bigtime! ~Stella Crews~




nightlight1220's picture


I am always so happy to read your comments. Thank you so much for doing so. I finally was able to get another laptop. You cannot accept friends on my phone because the screen is not big enough! lol. Yes, i am loving (loving..? lol), periscope! Would love seeing you on there one day. Would be awesome. -lady night-

...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "


allets's picture


I am sooooo recruitable - will check it out. Trying for happier writings - diagnosed as diabetic and no more sugar high from candy and carbs - soooo, I have a few ideas left. Again, it was good to read new words from you. Congrats on new laptop. I have two, when I burn out this one, I get the other one fixed and use it until I drop it or some aging senior citizen thing...peace out ~a~


Periscope looks like all video posting - is there a poetry posting branch - looks great by I do not facebook or twitter either. old school ~a~




nightlight1220's picture

You know, Stella, I have not

You know, Stella, I have not come across one yet, as I am still feeling my way around, but have met some wonderful artists that are into all different types of poetry, painting, drawing, crafts. It is WONDERFUL! You will love it...and best part, I get to meet one of my favs on pp! Now to get the word out to Ssmoothie, and ninety!! And of course that lovely Bishu. 

...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "


allets's picture

Day Job

Now you can sleep nights and we can affectionately call you SunLight - keep painting and drawing - that has got to be fun. And drop us a poem by daylight every now and then. Yr Poem Pal, Stella