Random Stirrings of The Mind.

Two paths lead to a greater understanding of a broken heart. One is to imagine it broken in tiny little shards, some ground to dust; left to be scattered about by the wind—a feeling most of us behold, and a fate we wouldn't even wish our enemies. Flip the coin, picture a heartbreak that opens it up into a new capacity—a process that cannot escape pain, but one that many a person would welcome.  As the world passes by, standing in the tragic gap between possibility and reality, that fistful thing called heart can break open to hold more of what the world readily gives; to hold more of what one goes through; the world's suffering and joy, successes, and losses, despair and hope, Forgiveness. But still, it beats, albeit with occasional flutters, but it keeps going.  Every minute of life without forgiveness is existence separated from the sacred and from the most basic of instincts bestowed upon our hearts. Living every moment with forgiveness to ourselves, to others, and even to ...

If today, that little veil covering the small steps of our lives is lifted, will we have enough of face to show the scars of time or stand tall and proudly display the plaques of amazing feats that we've achieved? Will we be able with unwavering demeanor, show the world the number of skeletons in our closets and those silent achievements earned over time? Or will we cower in abject shame as all is laid bare for everyone to see? Today, under the fluorescent dimness of the yellow reading lamp, he slights his palates with the sweetness of condiments sourced from random walks around malls, albeit the cold; a mix of frozen vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry sweetens this 1 am circus. The halls are silent, except for some occasional slow and sometimes fast patter of a random night owl, going for a tinkle.  The new year is a bit laggy, maybe because of a long-awaited break from the normal constantness of haunting lecture halls, and the dreary atmosphere surrounding midterms. It's a re...

This hit lower than most, but oh well. It comes at a time when snowdrops regal the cold winter weather outside. Stepping out calls for a hot mug of anything warm; from boiled wine to scouring out for heated-musty ruin pubs full of glazed-eyed partygoers swinging to the tune of anything that thaws out the bone. The day has ended, everyone is in a festive mood, hallways are empty and shops did close early. All he sees are heavily draped silhouettes of hunched people walking briskly to wherever their needs are. Like life, this day is a reflection of itself; an epilogue summarily drafted upon the mercies of the heavens. We wake, we walk, and we rest; like commas that interrupt words, a chance to catch a breath, we trip, we fall. others rise and dust off the worries. Some don't make it; full stops those ones. Bad news does sip into the constantness of life occasionally, and amidst those storms, we break, heal and wear scars like the kings and queens that we are. Some fights we choose to...

We all have seen pieces of us in other people's eyes. Little twinkles of shinny good and random excerpts of telltale ills. Words amount to many weights, but those unsaid carry the most of truths.  Many say,  "I wish".. at so late an hour when the sardines have turned gray and the sundial pattering its last speck of dust. I am awed by the world, I am enthralled by the beauty of the soul.  There is ominous waiting in silence, and darkness in all birthing...  But then, once in a while...  Just sit there right this minute, Indulge, don't flex a muscle, Rest, release, and breath in the goodness of life, For your little chance to see life as a whole, After all the hard work, Let me get you a tray of berries and wine, You can use my soft words, As a cushion for your head.  Live like a river,  Flow and get carried by surprise, Of the unfolding tides. The wellspring of life is bubbling us anew every moment. And so, when the angel is troubling the wa...

A river to a valley, An ocean to stone, endless ripples of unknowns. The time it takes the edges to become well worn, I’ve never been more certain, That all this time and softened lines, one day we will be better than before, Sailing through the seasons with every setting sun, Breathing in the feeling like we’ve just begun, Feels like we’re flying but it’s steady ground, In all the chaos and the quiet, you’re my safe and sound, Storm's abound. Never loose your way, The little speck that shines light to your path, For the bits of everything, hinges on thine steps. If the rest of the worldly eyes would see the bits and pieces of his steps and sojourns in his stead, all will be clear in time.  Memoir #13

Anytime Songi Songi by Maud Elka feat Hiro belts on his headset, a distinct waft of memory crawls to mind. Two souls, blessed beyond words; immaculate voices, crafty fingers that weave the most sumptuous of feasts. Relishes imbued with age-old love, akin to the great adages of the sages.  I'll trade my time, at any chance to behold such memory, even if it's a flicker.  But then, mystery surrounds one. A gentle spirit, an evocative voice, and for those who see beyond veils: a motherly gem. Grace shines beyond what the eye can see, good finds good for sure.  No words can fully drape the window that his eyes see through; descriptive essence, one that contains top notes of pink pepper, an after-fragrance of citrus accord and vetiver laced with heart notes of grapefruit, well aged dry cedar and labdanum. If his heart remembers right, it feels like a dry down of scents containing Frankincense, ginger and sandalwood.  Free spirit, up-tight and conservative at he...

A fortnight now, perhaps the least of expected steps he's ever taken; means a ton to him. A reset. He'd watch the skies for a sign, he saw the sparrows skim beneath the hot summer breeze; unrelenting heat waves bearing down on forlorn pieces shattered by man and time.  Today is that day he decided to take stock; not of the time, but of the weight that it imbues. His shoulders set straight, a vast sea of unknowns lies before him, it's a familiar but far off feeling.. Everything is working like a cog, familiar feels. Takes the mind of the edge. He has a permanent recollection of what the past has done to him; he's learned that, acceptance comes from within.. the bit where one is left on their own, to fend for themselves albeit with a watchful eye hovering above every step he makes.  He believes, he yawns... Time's not been kind.  Unsettled but definitely at peace. What was spoken in ages gone by, so be it. Acceptance.  Finding joy, finding peace, gaining p...