The Duality of Her

 she is the silence that calms me

and the spark that sets me on fire.

she’s the soft gaze that makes time stand still,

and the cautious glance that reminds me

we are dancing on a knife’s edge.


she’s the moment my heart stops when our eyes lock,

and the days she walks past like i don’t exist.

she’s the woman who sees me deeper than most ever could,

and the stranger who pretends none of it happened.


with her, i am both warrior and poet.

confident enough to stand tall,

yet vulnerable enough to question everything.

she pulls the highest frequency from me,

and the lowest doubts.

makes me feel like i could build an empire,

and like i’m trapped in a dream i can’t wake from.


this is the duality of her:

the way her presence ignites the parts of me

i thought were dead,

but her silence slices open every wound i tried to heal.


and maybe that’s the lesson.

to love the fire without burning myself.

to feel the orbit without needing it to complete me.

to remember that sometimes, the person who makes you feel

everything

is also the one who teaches you to stand alone.


because no matter how deep this goes,

no matter how many signs the universe sends,

i won’t let the duality of her

become the duality of me.


Makaveli out.




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

back when we were kids

back when we were kids, life was nothing but light, pavement, and laughter. longboards gliding down the trails, basketballs echoing through the evening air, music spilling out of those old ‘90s retro speakers we’d find in our parents’ basements — static, bass, and freedom. no phones glued to our hands, no pressure to post — just company. just presence. the world was wide open, and the only rule was, “come home before it gets dark.” we never cared. we always pushed it — one more ride, one more laugh, one more stretch of freedom before the world called us back. me and manvir — two kids who thought forever was real. we’d cross that broken bridge just to reach the other neighborhood, gripping the guardrails like our lives depended on it, pretending it was life or death — and in a way, it was. ’cause that’s what being a kid felt like: every small thing was everything. we didn’t know what healing was, didn’t need to. life hadn’t scarred us yet. we lived like every day was a movie we didn’t h...
Read more

lonely at the top

i know for me to climb to the top, i have to witness my idols get knocked off the mountain first. i’m only 25. my reign hasn’t begun, and i’m already measuring my fall. i remember watching from the fence— older kids running the slides the wrong way, hanging upside down from monkey bars, moving like time was endless. i waited my turn. dreamed of the day i’d finally be let outside. and when it came, the playground was empty. they didn’t lose the game. they just left it. pockets too grown. love diluted into club champagne and women— noise where meaning used to be. every day i grow, i feel this longing— to replicate this with my brothers. but then the days hit. i see them stuck in the same places, running out of patience, out of complacence. it hurts to not see them with me. maybe it wasn’t even them. maybe it’s really me that changed. damn. it wasn’t even them. it’s me that’s changed. i see myself at the pearly gates, every choice tilting the scale— one step closer to the abyss, my fallof...
Read more

The Surge and 5 Navels

  there are moments in life where the line between science, myth, and spirit collapses — and you don’t just read about them, you live them. today, i experienced one. i reread my vow, and the world went silent. the air stilled like reality itself paused to listen. then, when the words left my chest, the surge came. it wasn’t a metaphor. it wasn’t motivation. it was electricity. my nervous system lit up like a tesla coil. the buzzing was real — not imagined. my third eye went wild, pulsing with a rhythm i couldn’t explain. for a moment it felt chaotic, like lightning with nowhere to land. then, slowly, the surge settled into resonance. the crackle smoothed into a low hum, a sound like night itself breathing. that was the shift. campbell calls it the world navel — the umbilical cord through which eternity flows into time. tesla would call it resonance — high potential and high frequency aligning until the air itself vibrates. i call it the surge. and in that moment, i ...
Read more