Random Stirrings of The Mind.

Where light first shone, To thine eyes when I made the first squeak. The first whimper,  that sharp cry, piercing the silent dusk, when birds flew home to nest, And the goats and cows trudged back to their pens, The distant sounds of the local mill,  The heartful moos of the calves calling for their mothers Ooh, the sounds of a time long gone. Little thine spirit, how life seeped into my new form, To the beguiling chants of the womenfolk... Bubbling with joy, the silent whispers of prayer, And the welcoming of a new born into the world. The day, thine tiny hands held onto new fold, The start of a ticking time pouring in to a sum of old, Those black tiny eyes, staring at a vast  expanse, New and fresh to every feel,  Then a squeak, a cough and a shrill cry marking a grand entry. Our birth relieves sleep forgotten: The Soul that rises with us, our Life's guide, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire heedlessness, And not in utter bareness, ...

The turquoise down below, made my stomach churn, a candid echo of what has been tearing my insides a part. I love travelling, flying is my favorite. I hate sailing. The first time I went deep sea fishing, off the coast of San Diego, I threw up until there was nothing left in my bowels. My sadness is hollowness. It mirrors cancer, eating up the body from under the skin. I can't tell you what's worse. The hollowness, at times is a shell, holding in a thousand oceans of thoughts and doubts. Sometimes though, it holds hundred pieces of glass, wedged in between my soul and body. That's undoubtedly the pain. Many times though, like when I first broke a bone in my body; the ankle, it brought a calming feel. I felt no pain, and kept mutedly gazing at the weird angle of my left leg. Or when my favorite dog, the only friend I had, died and I felt no remorse. I just stood there. Watched the fresh soil, where he'd gone under, lifeless. Or even when my classmates laughed at a j...