Sparks

All it takes is a little spark to set off a raging fire. 


This soul is tired, these belief sincerely outdated. I'm exhausted trying to fight for something that I barely believe in anymore; what's love, what is patience, and most of all what the hell is faith anymore. Seeing what little I've fought for, be begrudgingly taken away from me in tiny little ways, irks me like no other really.

Take the relationships everyone you have ever met as embers, needing only a gentle yet consistent gust of effort to ignite it. Some grow into strong and stable fire's that give you warmth, some die out never to really live again, some rage out of control with the fury of hate, yet some are the strongest that no matter what you do they never go out, they just remain omnipotent in the fact of all the other fires.

Warmth, consistently soothing. 
Lost, never-ending regret. 


When you find your own self-belief in embers, you desperately try to keep it's flames going as you reminisces how strong and how pronounce it used to be.   

Caution

Misconstrued thoughts and beliefs.
Yours, Mine.

These little steps we steal amidst the fear of hurting ourselves again in this suffering associated with the path of healing. Growing bolder and bolder, maybe even stealing a glance at the lights that dance from the window ahead.

Windows that anyone, yet not everyone can look into. Look in a mirror, at the very essence of the reflection you stare into. Beneath that veil of skin, behind those emotional walls lies what was once freedom, imagination and dreams now a prisoner. Your inner child, maybe even your soul.

A silent consultant, a constant moral pillar. Yet, never once thanked. It's amazing how some stick around forever, and some are completely forgotten. Your conscience, and keeper of you will to live. To think, to harness the courage to try and imagine the state in which this steward of your inner being that resides inside you might be broken, maybe even crippled from experiences in which has left yourself crestfallen and shaken.

I am afraid, utterly terrified at what I might see. Something crippled, distorted, a broken perspective of what things were, of what I realise, I myself have put this poor being through. It is with caution I see, that it takes it's tentative steps to the window once again to see those beautiful lights.

Maybe then, it'll grow it's wings once again and soar as it once had. Lifting even I, from this destitute and barren maze of walls I have resided in.

Dream Blog #1

As always, you just 'exist' in a dream. Observing from a distance, as a spectator. But this is as far as my spectator role goes as I immediately gained physical form in this dream.

I come to an intersection in-front of Menara Weld. I know this intersection intimately as I have passed it going to school in my younger years, and passing it en route to Changkat. What gives me the physical form is when I see myself, many years younger, at first it register as surprise to me, then extreme curiosity at what I was doing here. I turn to see an elephant in the bushes infront of that 'camel' building at the intersection.

As I turn back, expecting to see the younger apparition of myself.

I am overwhelmed by seeing the many faces of my past. Every, single time I passed this intersection, albeit it being only a passing fancy, you try and imagine being faced with many, many younger versions of yourself suddenly being infront of you, it would tend to be slightly reminiscent. I guess it was through that lapse of judgement did I lose control. I suddenly felt a strong but gentle hand on my side, and as that feeling quickly passed, I realised I felt something in my pocket.

It was a phone, not the current piece of utter Nokes crap I am currently using but a proper piece of BlackBerry Bold 4 kinda phone. I was quite lost at how this slipped into my pocket without me realising it and soon enough got engrossed trying to figure out who this phone belonged to. I soon come to find the message that is left for me. I sensed this to be not possible as it is a BlackBerry, not a goddamn... well, I know how BlackBerries work. What was left for me wasn't, it was like I was able to hear her voice as I read the left behind text.

"Sayang, I inherited this phone from one of my friends. I don't know whose phone this is, but I think you should have it" .. .. Well, this is when I have complete confidence in saying, I completely lost control of the dream hereafter.

My father comes up from behind me, asking something. But, from what I remember the intention was to get home. Instead of getting on Putra though he was adamant and feigned being deaf for a moment and went on Star. He then proceeded to completely troll me, saying something like "You must learn how to...." I really gotta try and remember what dream dad told me. This of all things seem important.

Now this is where my little heart gets broken.

As soon as we get back on the, I must stress. The correct LRT. I start to fiddle around with the phone again. I discover who it was owned by, but going further on. I find many images that.. well.. I know is absolutely impossible, but it did not stop me from scrolling forward like the blithering idiot that I am. I wake up with such a start, with tears already streaming that I just... felt vulnerable. I don't think I've ever sought comfort about a bad dream since I was 9.

End of Dream Blog #1.

Freedumb

Today's the day. I can finally say it. Free of guilt, free of any recurring thought. Free of disdain, and most of all free of replaying memories. Thank god, thank friends, thank maybe even faith that I have no more of.

To be able to breathe,
To be able to see,

To be able to walk without weight,
To life this feet with new found strides. 


God, I love this feeling.
It's almost like being born again.

Winning. 

As these tears of joy stream through this tired eyes, of this shattered heart, and broken soul. I can gladly say, maybe this pieces that still remain through these harrowed times might be able to regroup. To rise amongst the ashes of ruin, like the phoenix of olde. Too long has it been weighed down with distant thoughts of longing. Too long has it been shackled by what was delusions of no longer found warmth. I am ready again, to try to be happy even if that means going through even more sadness.

Blinded

Blind, maybe that's what it is. 
Intertwined, mixed are these tentative hands. 
Remind-ed, I sigh.
Blind at my own fate. 

An imaginary blindfold latches itself upon my eyes, either through conditioning of what is virtuous/sacrilegious, right/wrong, proper/rude. Conditioned from lies, and unfeeling rules, systems and literacy from books of many ages. Did we learn not, that our strongest bond is not in our wit but in our great compassion for our own species or more? But this 'new' method of 'grooming' our next of kin, seems to only disseminate the need of individual prowess.

What utter nonsensical gibberish.

The End?

I pay more and more attention to the tentative dance of smoke as I exhale this poison.


It's intricate movements as it sways ever so slightly at the mercy of the wind.


I think, to myself of course; "This is us, in life as well"


Swaying slightly in the wind, never certain.


Are we all just, swirling smoke?


Dancers in wind.


Slowly fading?


Finite.

I flew.

I find myself walking. 

Is this a nightmare of/or reality?
Drowning, clawing for breath,

I hear your fears, tingled with tears,
The whimpers, the breaking sadness,

It's still the only way I can hear,
Your broken and misshaped voice,

Can I;Will I still be happy,
Or maybe I am to remain blind?

I lay down washed by these tears.

No longer, these walls crumble.
My heart, lays exposed to the pain,

I seek your warmth,
A painful farewell; I receive,

My hand reaches up to meet yours,
It's too late, your hand is gone.

So many "I'm sorry's",
What is left is tear-filled sorrows.

I feel the cold on my skin. 

These are my words,
This is all that's left of my voice.

I'm standing at the precipice of reminiscent bonds.
Jagged reality lay there at the bottom.

I don't know what I am looking for,
The reason itself eludes me,

Forgive me; I seem to plead.
Find God, find yourself; Fuck faith, find you.


It's inside, this confusion.


I've never been the same, 
Since that Night, far-away regret. 


In these cold lonesome nights, 
When you face your greatest fights,

In unison; Sadness and Brilliance.
Might maybe, conjure resilience.

Find God, find yourself,
Forget a nod, Forget Faith.

Through a heavy hearted sigh,
I simply concede; fade.

Hey, I said. I flew.