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Fine Artist Social Entrepreneur - I'm the piano player, composing my life's soundtrack. Mondego: If u want to put the world right, start with your self.. live your passion !!!!! `If you fail to plan, you plan to fail!!` words by My Late great Grand Father

Mala – Artist Feature

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Poetry, a malleable form of expression.  A compelling resonance. And a defying awareness.

Hi, I’m Mala. And I am passionate about writing. Why? When I think about it, as far as I remember I have always scribbled on anything at hand. Papers. Notebooks. Drawing books. Tables. Walls. Simply like a chronic behavioural pattern. A syndrome I have never been able to suppress. But a beautiful one, isn’t it?

I find an infinite beauty in the malleability of words. You can carry them along a river of your creation and they will follow you. Along with being motile, words resonate within us. They have an evocative and sometimes provocative spell, depending on the intention behind. I also believe that words can be a defying tool in building and conveying awareness. Awareness in multiple directionalities. Awareness of fear programs, of disempowerment, as well as an awareness of the essence of our humane earthy beauty with accents of our hidden mystics and origins.

I live in the beautiful islands of Seychelles. Hence, I use Nature as a mineral lattice upon which I build a narrative mostly from the “I” point of view. Along the strings of words, you will encounter the islands Denis, Desroches, where I have stayed and La Digue, where I am residing now. You will also become familiar with some of the endemic plants of Seychelles, such as Bwa Blan, Takamaka, Vouloutye and Casuarina.  The first person viewpoint is not restricted to my subjectivity but it exalts all the silent “l”s.  It dances along the thin edge of the visible and invisible realms. It is an interplay in the unicity of silences, questions, fully embraced fears and enlightened darkness. I am multilingual, so you might also come across a few French-written lines…I couldn’t help it.

My words are multi-layered and each will read with their own dimensional lines to make up their own stories.

Writing is an affirmation. A statement. A continuous exhumation to unearth our deeper Selves.

Maybe this is why I write.



  1. Your crystalline rays burn my skin. They ooze in to reach my heart. My refuge and my solace. I breathe in and out while I become aware of the darkness that blurs my inner world. My mind is turmoil while my heart is insight. There is unbounded expansion under your golden caress. A scorching awareness of now. Of my body . Of my pain. My mind shrinks with agony while my heart expands to emptiness. This is. The suffering, the joy, the delusion. This is as it is. Empty and blissful. My eyelids droop through the intensity of your glow. I can feel your warmth paving a way through my veins. They are deadly but necessary. They are clearing a path to a place I know not yet. To a sanctuary I have forgotten. Where I need not be. Where non‐being is Being. Your particles are dusting away the specters of past, present and future. They ripple through every corners of my bones and flesh.
  1. The silence of your song echoes the silence of my heartbeat. A distant song in the meanders of my lives and memories. I forced myself in the bosom of your darkness. My closed eyes seeing the veiled silences. I fall down and under. I fall from a distance with my wings all crumpling on the coral crystals. My knees tremble and shake, unable to hold my glory anymore. Like the tears of a mother, you embrace my resurrection. In pain and moans, my wings shudder and try to soar again. They lay lifeless on your moist soil…a heave of recalling and shudder. Desroches…your silence is my salvation. Death in your presence is an enlightened obscurity. Silence…in the presence of death. Silence. My heart bleeding to your rhythm. Silence. My heart hungers for your stillness and your quietness.
  1. I see Death. A salvation song. A beautiful painful « entre-deux ». An eclipse. My bones melt underneath my skin. They crumble to dust, embracing your darkness. They drink of your shadow. Nothingness wraps me. I am left bare…to the bone. Flesh to flesh. Bone to bone. My lips are dry-parched. I can hear your fingers crawling through my rivers of veins, touching my numb heart. I am dying. Sweetly and softly. Bone to Bone. Flesh to Flesh. A Hungry pain. I will wake up with skin of my glory. I will wake up from Death with your flesh of Life. Golden and empty. There would be a void. An empty scar. An empty song to sing the glory of rebirth.
  1. Bundles of fiery Your rays pierce through the sky, a luminous cut. Pulling and repulsing at the same time. Bundles of darkening light reaches through my warm icicled heart. I stand still, in awe and expectation. The water lapping against my hair. I wait. I wait for your burning fingers to carve the way through my skin. They would burn to ashes all that I am not. They would crawl underneath all that is hidden. They would find way where there is none. I wait. My hands caressing the waves, unable to hold on to them. My feet dancing in the sea, unable to touch your sandy bed. My breath, a gasping heave, as I stand still. Your multi-tinted fire has the taste of a dying life. As the horizon swallow your curvy round golden rim, you die, you melt, you withdraw all your sparks of light.

Et j’attends. J’attends que ton souffle me brûle. J’attends que ton feu me dévore. J’attends que ma peau ne devienne qu’un linceul de lumière.

  1. Softly you glide around like a nenuphar dance. You dance the fleetingness of life. Your laugh is a soothing caress on my naked flesh. I stand barefoot in the grass. My hair swaying to the pulse of your sweet airy fingers. It is a breath. Impossible to grasp. Impossible to hold on. You keep your mystery in the silence of your heart. Your feathery zephyr is intoxicating. You hear my awakening words. Words for you to blow away. Words for you to swallow away. Your cold kiss uplifts my mind. There is clarity and void in your presence. We all bend our body to your caress, acknowledging your passing presence. Leaves quiver. Birds fly on your wings. As I close my eyes, your whistling melody is comfort to my Being. There is absence in your wordless song. There is a thriving silence. A completeness. Impossible to comprehend. Impossible to swallow. Your dance is fluid and light. Strong and soft. I am now as light as you are. A body translucent and vaporous.
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