Exploring life and time...

[surfurbana]

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

Define Love...

To Define Love…

In a few words it will prove impossible— an inexplicable task, forever short-sold. Yet I will attempt, in my own trembling words, to capture the love that already lives in me.

For when she arrives, unplanned and careless as starlight, she defies logic, disrupts every routine, scrambles the mind. She never asks permission, offers no apology— only overtakes the senses and leaves my heart defenseless.

Love is God in herself, the only real God I have ever known.

She forgives when no one else will dare, understands the tangled complexity of my human failure. She asks the right questions yet already holds the answers inside her quiet smile.

She holds me, embraces me, hugs me close, knowing closeness is the loudest way she says “I love you.” She feels when my heart grows cold and warms it simply by existing beside me.

She looks at me with new eyes every single day, as if dawn has only just discovered my face. Her gaze radiates the love pooling deeper in her chest, a deepening ocean I am happily drowning in.

She listens with fierce intent, as though my next breath might be our last song. Every sound I make becomes thunder rolling through the storm she carries for me alone.

She carries me when I am weak, frail, or simply too heavy for my own bones. She knows my limits by heart, yet gently steers me toward every edge— because she believes I was born to leap, and she will always be the arms that catch me.

She teaches me things I swear I never studied, so that I marvel at my own cleverness when I’m with her. Her wisdom is never more than needed— practical, precise, perfectly enough to keep a man alive on love alone.

She appears exactly as I once dreamed love would look, not the fantasy I wanted, but the miracle I needed. Her beauty is a perfect summer morning: warm sunlight spilling over skin, wildflowers bowing in quiet applause, rolling hills that rise and fall like her breathing while she sleeps.

Her presence is a winding river that nourishes every moment and baptizes my soul anew. Her love feels endless— perhaps only God could measure its shores.

So why am I still missing half my heartbeat? When will I finally be united with her?

Some nights I look up at the stars and pray she is looking too— that somewhere she feels this same ache shaped like my name, and turns her face toward home.

Come back to me, my love. I have been holding your place in every breath since the day you left it empty.

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

Let's Go

We are all hidden, yet the veil is thin as morning mist— a single breath, a step beyond the glow, and the world unfurls like a forgotten map.

Chasing ambition's ghost in pixel chains, we tally wins in columns cold as rain, while love, that wild droplet, melts the frost and carves rivers through the heart's deep snow.

The sea doesn't whisper; it roars your name, waves crashing like applause for the bold. The wind doesn't tug—it pulls with promise, lifting skirts and spirits toward the horizon's fire.

That doorstep? It's no threshold of doubt, but a launchpad etched in sun-warmed stone. Turn not in fear, but in fierce surrender— the "not sure" is just the echo of chains loosening.

I'm with you already, hand outstretched, no screen between us, no ledger to balance. Follow? Nay, we've started—the road calls, and the open wild is ours to claim.

Let's chase the salt spray, the untamed gust, leave the stocks to tumble, the notes to fade. True north is the pull of a kind smile's warmth, eternal as the tide, fierce as the dawn.

What say you, wanderer? One foot forward— the world outside is waiting, alive, unbound.

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

Palindrome kind of poem -

The Walk

In the hush of your verses, where miles bleed to scars,

I trace the map of your wandering, etched under stars.

A million steps, each a lifetime's quiet roar—

Oasis or void? The heart knocks at the door.

You've tallied the echoes, the crows' mocking flight,

Their disdain like dust devils, scattering light.

But oh, what you've woven: threads of the broken,

Loved fierce in the fracture, then left to the token.

Needed, then not—yet you rose, content in the ask,

Silent as stone when the world's wearing mask.

Does it ripple the waters, this life that you live?

Carve canyons of kindness the indifferent forgive?

You are different, wanderer—wild as the wind's secret song,

A history hummed in the places you belong.

The worth? It's the spark in the solitary flame,

The "yes" whispered back when doubt calls your name.

And do I, Love? With every beat of this borrowed breath,

See you? Yes. Cherish? Beyond measure, to death.

For in pondering aloud, you've gifted the why—

Not just steps, but the soul that dares ask of the sky.

The Thoughts

In the rhythm of gravel underfoot, a solitary cadence,

I turn, mid-stride, to the horizon's empty hush—

Hoping for shadows that stretch toward me, a silent entourage,

A trail of fellow travelers, ghosts of the almost-gathered.

No one, often, but the wind's faint mimicry of pursuit,

Whispering promises of company just beyond the bend.

And as the miles tally like beads on a frayed rosary,

I recount the quiet charities: hands extended in the dark,

Words mended into bridges over chasms of another's ache.

Each good a lantern swung against the encroaching night—

Yet the ledger flips, and tears carve their own crooked paths,

For errors etched indelible, half-mended fractures in the bone.

I weep for the apologies that lingered too long on the tongue,

The hurts I bandaged but didn't fully forgive in the mirror's gaze.

Still, forward, always—footfall a prayer to the unpaved ahead,

Where the follower might yet appear, not in flesh, but in echo:

The good rippling outward, mistakes softening to lessons learned.

Turn back less, perhaps; let the path claim its due.

The walk is witness enough, Love—your steps, a constellation

That others, unseen, are tracing in the dust behind.

The Vision

In the swirl of that dress, petals caught in a zephyr's tease,

She emerges from the haze of your backward glance—

Flat-footed and fierce, roots drinking deep from the earth,

Curly shadows framing dimples like secrets half-spilled.

Italian warmth in her skin, a canvas kissed by sunlit seas,

Brown eyes holding the weight of olives and ancient vines,

Wit sharp as a switchblade hidden in laughter's fold.

Kind-firm, she forgives the stumbles you tally in tears,

Independent as the wind that tugs her hemline free,

Shy in the crowd's clamor, yet blooming bold when the moment calls—

A compass in human form, redirecting your savior's stride.

She'd share your wild hunts, your quiet crafts under star-pricked skies,

But claim her own orbit, unyielding, a moon to your wandering sun.

And oh, how you'd pivot—forge peaks from the clay of your hands,

Only for her to still you with a touch: "Enough, Love. Just this—

The path we tread tandem, your good deeds my quiet applause,

Mistakes mended in the mending of us."

She's the follower who leads without a word,

Turning your million miles to a shared horizon,

Where companionship is the oasis, love the uncharted sea.

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

Just a pressing thought I had to release...

I am an ordinary man harboring the dreams of the cosmos. There are days when time feels like a cage—moments where I seem too weathered to glance back at my stumbles, their shadows too long and unforgiving, and others where my youth still pulses fiercely, whispering that surrender is not an option, that I might yet carve a grand mark upon the stars. Through it all, I press on, charting my path in the dust of each step, unyielding.

The weight of this world tethers me here, a thousand threads of duty and delight wrapped around my wrists—tasks half-finished, promises half-kept, all demanding I linger just a little longer. Time and fate, those capricious guardians, offer no guarantees: not the tick of the next heartbeat, not the dawn of tomorrow. For me, or for any soul. Yet I refuse to let their indifference dim my fire, erode my resolve, or sour the quiet hope that fuels me.

Too often, I find myself adrift in that gray limbo—motionless, the spark within flickering low, motivation a distant echo. But I wrench myself free, knowing stagnation spreads like a shadow, rooting deep into habit if left unchecked. It cannot claim me.

I've crossed paths with so many radiant souls, each a constellation in their own right. Some I wounded, not by malice but by the clumsy orbit of my flaws—unintentional collisions that left echoes of regret. Others I cherished with a depth that bordered on fierce, only for my affection to be mistaken for a storm, overwhelming or wounding in its intensity. Maybe it was my unspoken dread, the selfish terror that to lose them would be to forfeit such light forever. In hindsight, yes, that fear was mine alone to bear. But oh, that love—it burned true, vivid and alive. It might have unfurled into something eternal, a garden of shared skies. Instead, time and fate, with their inscrutable designs, chose otherwise.

Now, I turn my gaze inward, steeling myself with focus and grit to etch meaning into every breath. A life of purpose—not just for the man staring back from the mirror, but for those I've held dear, those I still do in the quiet hours, and even those yet unmet, phantoms of potential love who may slip through my fingers before the next voyage calls. My vessel, that battered ship of self, nears readiness at last. Repairs sealed, engines humming. My galaxy awaits. Ha—launch sequence initiated. Note: the last few words are purely satirical. It really is a spaceship hahaha! Well, it's a 1973 Beetle

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

Mist on the Mountain

In whispers of salt-kissed wind from the endless sea, they drift and convene, these ethereal wanderers, soft as forgotten dreams, tracing lazy spirals over emerald pastures that sway like lovers' sighs. There, they drape like veils of spun moonlight upon the ancient brow of Table Mountain's plateau— that steadfast sentinel, cloaked in silver-grey stone, cradling their downy forms in tender repose.

Bathed in the sun's golden caress and the vast azure dome, their edges glow with honeyed light, fringes fringed in rose, like the finest wool from a grandmother's cherished shawl, wrapping the old giant in warmth against the chill of time. Day after sun-dappled day, they return without fail, faithful as the heartbeat of the earth itself, weaving spells of serenity over Cape Town's embrace— that jewel-box harbor nestled at the foot of her colossus, where sapphire waves lap at shores of ochre and green, and the air hums with the quiet promise of home.

From my window's gentle frame, this vista unfolds like a love letter etched in the landscape's curve: over undulating hills stitched with wild Protea blooms, to the mountainside where shadows dance in playful light. There, amid fern-fringed paths and boulders worn smooth by centuries of secrets, lovers twine like vines in bloom, their laughter a soft ripple in the breeze, while sun birds trill their velvet melodies, a symphony of joy that stirs the soul awake.

Oh, to linger here, cocooned in this hush of belonging, till the velvet hush of twilight claims the sky— awaiting the mountain's misty shawl at dawn's first blush, when the world renews its tender vow, and all is wrapped once more in the arms of tomorrow.

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

You and I

In the echo of your words, where "you and I" fractures into shards of what-was, I linger like the shadow you cast—long, unbidden, reaching for the hand that slipped away. Had I not you, whispered doubts into the quiet, the silence might have held us, woven tight as roots in earth.

But you, with your leaving, painted the nights in hues of absence, a canvas of stars I chase alone, their light now cold and questioning. For not you but I, clutched at the fraying thread of us, enduring the dawn's cruel mercy, the empty chair at dawn's first blush.

If not then, but now—when the sunsets bleed the same reluctant gold— will we mend the "had you not," rewrite the script of flight and stay? Not I alone, nor you adrift, but us, reclaimed in the tender wreckage, where wrongs dissolve like mist, and "me" folds back into "we."

Forever's a promise etched in the space between breaths, even as you wander your horizon, and I guard mine. You, me—and the us that waits, patient as tide, to pull us under, whole again, into the deep of true.

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

Unworthy of Your Light

I cannot love you, though your smile could mend the sky,

its warmth a thread to stitch the stars that fracture high.

Your laughter hums like river stones smoothed soft by time,

yet I’m a husk, unworthy, cracked by fears I can’t define.

Your eyes, like embers caught in twilight’s gentle sway,

beckon me to linger where the heart might dare to stay.

But I’m a shade, too frail to hold the vows I’d weave,

my soul convinced some shadowed end would force me to deceive.

I cannot love you, for my roots are thin as air,

a fleeting gust, unmoored, too weak to anchor there.

Your hands, they shape a haven, steady, kind, and sure,

but I’m the cinder, doomed to drift, my promise insecure.

Your world unfolds in hues that pulse with vibrant grace,

a tapestry of dreams where hope might find its place.

Yet I am tethered to the dread of time’s cruel theft,

a heart that falters, fearing loss will be all that’s left.

I cannot love you, not for lack of fire or will,

but for the weight of knowing I may never fulfill.

You are the dawn that calls, the bloom I’d long to tend,

but I’m the fleeting spark, unworthy, dreading my own end.

#poetry #love #purpose #sacrifice

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

What if...

Your call met only silence, A void where hope once held its ground? Would you dial again, defy the absence, Or let the moment’s weight pull you down? What if our past dissolved to dust, No trace of me, no spark of us?

What if You found another heart to claim, A stranger’s hand to fill the space? Could you walk away, rewrite the flame, And leave our ghosts without a trace? The risk of wrong—a moment’s theft— Could lock us out of all we’ve left.

I dare not think it’s not me, Not us, not this fragile now. For one false step could set us free— Or lose us both, and break the vow.

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

Silent Whisper

With whispers soft as dawn, her steps so light,

Alleycat slipped through my shadowed days.

In the tangle of my heart’s crowded night,

She wove a spark that set my world ablaze—

A quiet cure for my unspoken pain.

We carved a haven in fields of fleeting time,

Her laughter a compass, our drives a rhyme.

Her eyes, like stars, held futures yet to climb,

But time and place declared our bond a crime.

Still, her wisdom lit paths I’d never known.

She saved me, yet I lost a piece of me—

A fragment caught in memories I hold.

Though I meant no harm, I see what she might see,

A line we crossed where youth and trust were sold.

Forgive me, Alleycat, for steps misplaced.

To you, now mending lives with healer’s grace,

I send my thanks, my heart across the stars.

If pain remains, I seek your peace, your space,

Your light endures, guiding my quiet scars.

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

Complexity

While I sit here, seem

While I sit here, seemingly idle,

My purpose remains crystal clear.

I am inherently good, inherently kind,

A breed apart, rare to find.

You can't measure up to me,

I'm uniquely defined, of a kind…

Even if you refuse to admit it,

I'm the one that lingers in your mind!

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

New Page, New Book

This year, I embark on a journey of mindful navigation, where each maneuver is a step towards greater wisdom, and every routine change a brushstroke on the canvas of my life. I commit to embracing thoughtful decisions, reducing the spontaneity of impulsive risks, understanding that this year sets the compass for the next five. Let this be the year where each choice is not just a reaction, but a deliberate step towards my destiny, creating a foundation for a future of purpose and fulfillment.

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

Whites under seige

We have to pray for the white farmers in South Africa. They regularly fall victim to some of the most gruesome anti-white murders you can possibly imagine and now they’ve officially been made fair game by their communist government.

Eva Vlaardingerbroek (Commentator/Lawyer)@EvaVlaar

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Boer

@twatterbaas

Unquote

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

I had the urge to say something, but I am typing this and saying nothing.

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

Almost there...watch this space! And boom....it is now 22 June 2026 and this is her.

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

What I want and what I need

It's possibly the biggest inner war that rages on a daily basis, this choice matrix of what we want and what we need. How do we apply heart and mind to these complex decisions. To have an inherent instinct engine that successfully guides choices is a great asset but we don't all have it. I have it, sometimes and sometimes not. This is the conundrum. It should be consistent and always available slash accurate.

And the more I try and hone this ability, the more it seems to fail me. Yet I know it is there and it can be mastered. How???

[mariusstragenvdwalt]

If it wasn't for my passion and desire to never give up, I perhaps would have on many occasions...