Usually it is the storm that people fear most but it is actually quite the opposite. It is the calm silence and the seemingly tranquil sky that is most treacherous. I await the storm but remain wary of the events that build up to it. There is nothing to do but wait. Until that time, I shall recall days of whirlwind romances and promises that once were..looking to attain full circle.
If stars were pieces of my heart,
They would fill the sky with endless light.
And bury deep within your soul,
Embrace your emptiness, Embrace you whole.
Seek the depths of where you lie,
Fill each dark night with brightened sky,
Bestowing upon you a love that will always be
Enduring till it consumes the very life of me.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Memories of the sea
How do you start understanding the complexity of man? How odd that man can possess so much goodness and yet the tiniest of flaws which he himself is not able to control no matter how much he wills it can cause the most complicated of situations. I cried again today, I let the sea and the rain wash away the tears and yet when asked why they came I am caught in a stupor. Then I realized the sadness I felt for him, for her, and things I could not control anymore and should just allow to unravel was my own. Memories from the past slowly exposing itself and wanting to be known once again. It was as if the tide that was at bay for the longest time suddenly decided to rise and cover the remainder of my safe and happy island.
It was partly my story, though this one had yet no ending. A love starting, another slowly becoming just embers. A pair is never three and a couple is always binary. Somewhere along the way, the round robin happens and then there is one left with none. No one.
The wound has never closed, though I do not regret anything. I to this day wish though that there was an ally nearby to call my own, a friend who does not change with the season nor is limited by the hours in the day. Someone.
Then again not all stories are alike. I try hard to think they do not and somehow this will still defy convention. As if it has not already. She is fine one day until her questions creep in. Tomorrow, next week, next month. He is torn between hurting and loving and plays the scene in his head and convinces himself it is all okay. She is overwhelmed by it all and has sworn loyalty to no other.
And I stand as a listener, an alert observer, sometimes a heartless torturer, a mime whose smile reveals more than what she actually knows and in all angles a faithful friend.
What is the saving grace of man? What with all these does he still remain to be the most exalted of all creatures? How does no one turn into someone? One will never understand. It is the most well kept secret of all.
It was partly my story, though this one had yet no ending. A love starting, another slowly becoming just embers. A pair is never three and a couple is always binary. Somewhere along the way, the round robin happens and then there is one left with none. No one.
The wound has never closed, though I do not regret anything. I to this day wish though that there was an ally nearby to call my own, a friend who does not change with the season nor is limited by the hours in the day. Someone.
Then again not all stories are alike. I try hard to think they do not and somehow this will still defy convention. As if it has not already. She is fine one day until her questions creep in. Tomorrow, next week, next month. He is torn between hurting and loving and plays the scene in his head and convinces himself it is all okay. She is overwhelmed by it all and has sworn loyalty to no other.
And I stand as a listener, an alert observer, sometimes a heartless torturer, a mime whose smile reveals more than what she actually knows and in all angles a faithful friend.
What is the saving grace of man? What with all these does he still remain to be the most exalted of all creatures? How does no one turn into someone? One will never understand. It is the most well kept secret of all.
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