Ground Zero.

Ground Zero.

Light for the memories. 

Prayers for the souls that were lost. 

And life goes on.

Third time's a charm

Since the arrival of my new toy-the juicer- in mid-January, I've been experimenting.
This is the best tasting blend so far:

1/4 red cabbage (medium sized)
1/2 cucumber
1 green apple
1 stalk of bakchoy.

Yums!!

Someone once told me, that sometimes, when we can't get the words flowing, it's probably because we are too busy living life.

I don't know how true that is. At some point, that may be the case. That, or just pure laziness.

I'd like to think that the writing bug is just dormant at the moment. 

I just hope that it isn't dead. 

pry open my heart
as it slowly comes apart
words no longer hide

to dance its story
bask in all its mystery
cherished history

pry open my heart
trapped memories shall depart
here's to a fresh start

If the world was perfect, Dreams would be lost.

If the world was perfect, Possibilities would end.

If the world was perfect, there would be no room for Growth.

If the world was perfect, Opportunities would not have rolled.

If the world was perfect, Curiosity would be killed.

If the world was perfect, Creativity would not have flowed.

If the world was perfect, it would be still. 

 

Be thankful that the world is imperfect, 

And that we are all perfectly imperfect.. 

Isn’t that a Perfect arrangement?

This piece was written a few years back, well, almost half a decade ago actually. I wonder what happened to that particular Muse. I suppose, nothing in life is static and we are constantly changing.

Maybe all we need to do is embrace each moment, but let it flow.

_________________________________________________
Peace, revisited. 

The night has turned into a stage. Complete with a backdrop of bright, shining stars and the silhouette of palm trees swaying gently. Nevertheless, the orchestra of rustling leaves, singing crickets and the occassional baritone croak of the frogs are amiss. All I can hear is the constant hum of silence.

In this empty space, Intuition is sitting with Thoughts and Emotions. Each with its own little monologues, neither talking nor listening to one another. Each acknowledging the other's presence, yet each, is lost in its own soliloquy. It seems chaotic on the surface, but Peace is twirling around blissfully; dancing to her own beat without a care in the world. Words swirls around trying to mimic Peace's movements, filling the thin air with a certain warmth. But Words is a little bit lost.

This is a rare moment where everything and nothing make sense. A time to sit back and be enveloped by the beauty of The Present. A dream-like moment where the concious and sub-concious merge, creating strange, mysterious, beautiful patterns. Surreal yet true. Abstract, yet defined.

The Sunset Run

It has been awhile since I ran at the park. Heck, it has been awhile since I ran at all. Ironically, what prompted me to run today was this annoying, movement-restricting,  pain in the knees that refused to go away since the past two months. 

Easing myself out of the running hiatus, I started with brisk-walking. The rhythm of my feet touching the ground, one after another, lulled me into my own little world. I realized that I’ve never been up here at this time of the day. I took a deep breath. The smell of damp, dried leaves wafted through the air. I looked around for something somewhat familiar, but no, it was quite different. There were no monkeys chilling by the trail as usual. The sound of crickets singing was prominent, like a haunting soundtrack. But it was not the same song that filled the air in the morning.  As the familiar trail transformed into a strange, unknown place, my thoughts quickly returned to my knees.  Maybe it was time to pick up the pace, I thought. I broke into a slow jog, my knees were doing fine, it wasn’t painful .Left , right,  left,  right- sharp pain. Stop.  Walk.

I looked up to the sky as I huffed and puffed for air. The sky was a gradient of pink and orange, with a hint of purple. Fascinated, I fixed my gaze on the salmon-coloured sky as I continued walking. It felt as though the sky at that very moment was giving me a personal visual montage. Through the narrow tree-covered trail,  through the intertwined branches, I saw the sky turning from deep blue to grey to purple. Pink was gradually losing its presence. And when it was completely gone, the moon was unveiled.

Nature seemed to cast a different pattern of shadows to the area. The trees seemed to be bowing lower and branches didn't look as friendly as it was in the morning. The rustling sound along the bushes were not something that I was familiar with. I was struck by this myriad of movements. There I was moving through my bubble of existence. And everything else was moving too, in their very own dimension. Nothing was ever in the same place. They looked similar, but they were definitely not the same. It was nothing novel, but realizing yet again how every single element moved at its own pace, to its own rhythm, touched me for some reason.  I loved the thought of how each of this different motions, at each point, came together,  creating frames and frames of unique moments. No two moments would ever be alike. And there was no other way to completely enjoy these moments aside from being completely present. Once it was gone, all you would be left with, were memories, such as this.

The trail started to take a downhill turn. Taking advantage of gravity, I broke into a jog and trotted downhill as the sound of the Adzan broke through the air, crisp and clear. At the parchment right before the parking lot where lil bro was already waiting, a black cat was sitting pertly on the grass.