Friday, December 27, 2013


My eyes, of their own volition, flickered to him. Like all the other times, I was taken aback by everything about him. His eyes were an uncommon shade of green. I rarely have cause to stare into them for more than a few seconds. But, in those precious seconds in which I stare into those pools, are the most precious seconds of the day. Staring into his eyes was mesmerizing. I cannot adequately describe them but, it was like seeing a whole new universe ringed by emerald irises. His eyes always gave away his emotions. When he was elated, ecstatic, his eyes would light up like a kid's face when receiving candy. When he was troubled, tenebrous, the life in those emerald eyes would be vacuumed into the atmosphere, coldness and emptiness taking its place. When he was enraged or passionate, a perceptible blaze would burn in the hearths of those eyes. They unconsciously told split second stories to me every single day.

His smile was a different story. An assembly of perfect teeth that said what the mouth could not. He had various types of smiles. There was the one he wore as a polite response to a hello. That one said "Have a nice day!" When I was lucky enough to receive anything at all, that was the smile I got. There was the gloomy smile. The smile that resembled the sun desperately clawing at the grey clouds, trying to shine through and persevering as if his life depended on it. This smile never reached his eyes. When my eyes conveyed this to my utterly overworked heart, a disjointed rhythm was produced. Then there was the smile he gave her. That smile was hands down the most beautiful smile in all of history. That smile set my world burning a gorgeous inferno as it lit everything up, turning omnipresent darkness into brilliance. He wore this smile every time she passed by him. He donned this gorgeous expression whenever she took his hand or gave him a peck on the cheek. A green flame burned long and dull in my tired chest. I wondered idly if she deserved that smile. Had she loved him from the first second she saw him? At first sight? Did she notice how that smile would touch his eyes and set the atmosphere a trifle happier? I did.

He breezed by again, today. The perfume of his presence engulfed me as I watched the lanky boy incognizant of his beauty slowly stride down the hallways. Would he ever know the way my heart yearned to break from my chest beat in harmony with his? Would he know the way my world lighted up like daybreak when he was near? He was him and I was... well, I was me. The slight figure foolishly afraid of speaking the words of her heart.

Friday, December 20, 2013


The cecity has left me,
advanced to realms
I never wish to see.
Now, I revel in You,
in sunshine, in rhyme
and last but not least,
in once upon a time.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

16th Dec

You would assume that I would be morose as it is now the end of the short-lived journey. In all honesty, what happened was that I was pointed in the right direction and given a gentle nudge. The path I was shown was rapturous yet, arduous. I would spend my days walking along that trail. Sometimes I would be skipping mirthfully, other times I would be trudging wearily.
I am on the path now, far from the end. Gazing at the dull ceiling, I surprise myself with my eagerness. This is only beginning.

Monday, December 16, 2013


There is an old man. His body is the victim of time. Wrinkles decorate his skin and laugh lines are prominent. He smiles at pedestrians and with his benevolent eyes, he wishes them a good night. He paces the boulevard in a leisurely fashion. His eyes roam the fiery yet lulling sunset. Birds fly in flocks back to their home tree like a swarm of bees to honey. He watches silently but with evident pleasure. The clouds are painted with a carefree hand in varying shades of nostalgic beauty. Like every other day, he removes the drawbridge that prevents his memories from frolicking throughout the day. Eventide is the time he gives to those memories. At said time, he lets them flow freely like a vigorous river. They are vibrant and harsh at first and some are even cutting. Then, slowly and ever so gracefully, they become softer. The river flows leisurely as if struggling to match itself to the emotions of the sky. He is able to see each thread in the arras of memories, every event that shaped who he is.
He misses her, the person he used to walk with. There was once a soul he bounded his to. There was once a quirky lover who never failed to bring hope into his life. She had no fear, that woman. She loved swinging at a play ground always claiming that she was flying. She loved the way that spring smelled like flowers. She loved the shooting stars that she wished upon. She loved how honey tasted. She loved way there was never enough popcorn when watching a good movie. She loved the silhouettes that shuffle around the boardwalk. She loved his laugh, his husky laugh that is always accompanied by a smile that she insisted was in synchronicity with sunshine. She loved the sunset. She loved to read stories to the little ones. She used to be a dancer. She had the most dazzling eyes in all the universe. She loved the way their grandchildren hugged her tight when she told them she wouldn't see them for a long time. She loved the way his hand always found hers and how fate never seemed to accomplish keeping them apart. She loved him.
The endless sea of longing is where he dwells. Time has made it easier to navigate the rough waters. It wasn't that the sea became calmer as time wore on, it was more that he learned how to stay afloat, to tread water. On most nights, he calls to the heavens, seeking some form of strength to keep braving storms. Whenever he calls, he is answered and the burden of life is easier to bear. Tonight though, he doesn't call Him. With his heart, he reaches out to her and if he shuts his eyes again, he can feel how close their hearts are. In fact, they are still bounded together. When he begins walking again, he almost sees her in his peripheral vision. He simply smiles to himself as he keeps walking, knowing that if he were to look too closely, the magic would be vacuumed into twilight. He doesn't speak the words for the sound would shatter the flawless silence. He is fleetingly happy. And, on nights like tonight, love is so potent, even ominous death cannot stand in between.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013


Picture this. Just humor me.

You're in a dark tunnel that is dimmer than the darkest twilight you laid your eyes on. You have to keep moving forward. You have to force yourself to find a way out, find a way to the rich happiness your fatigued soul and body so greatly requires. Then, out of nowhere, while you are sitting in the middle of the path and contemplating staying there, a beam of light cuts right through the darkness. The ray slices open the dark like the light streams through the room when one removes the curtains. You can see now. You can see the walls of the tunnel and the blacktop beneath. The light illuminates the world enough for you to see the path to more light. With rekindled determination and anticipation, you push up from the ground, brush gravel from your hands and trudge on. You find yourself hungry for more light, ravenous for it. It is a compulsion. You take off running. You push your lungs until they find difficulty serving your needs. The lack of oxygen only strengthens your will to reach the light. You know you have to keep moving to reach it. You travel around the stray shadows that obstruct the path, only thinking about the reward of reaching the end. The light grows brighter as you sprint and recedes a little for every second you take a beat. Despite the arduous process, the diminishing hope that you'll ever make it, you remind yourself that those are tall hurdles that intend to stumble you and make sure you reside on the ground for eternity. Despite all the drawbacks, the negativity, the desolation that slowly conquers your mind, you know that you must reach the light. For, the world beyond the walls of the tunnel will be brilliant, lustrous, awe-inspiring and significant.

Simply put, I am onto something. I don't know how long it will take to reach the end or if the end will ever be within reach. Nevertheless, I am hopeful for those rapturous days that await me at the end of this seemingly aeonian journey.
I am optimistic. The tunnel has to end somewhere.

This is what happiness looks like!

Short-Lived Signatures

From dawn to dusk,
day and night,
the saltwater waltzes
with the utmost grace. 

With careless motions,
it crumbles castles
devours portraits artistically created
by the arms of trees.
And, your footprints
are left in the sunbaked grains
only for swells
to whisk them away.


She has been wandering for a long time now. The darkness is never inviting. Yet, she cannot seem to keep from returning to it. It was as certain as the sunrise. She never stayed away from the dark for long. Daytime doesn't appeal to her. The sun is always too bright and the seas always glisten too beautifully to be real. Darkness is better. Darkness is accepting, understanding and safe. It houses and stays by many others like her. Creatures of the night are familiar with the dark. The owl for instance. The owl has always loved the night. The dark makes him feel powerful, less defenseless. He lets himself believe that it's okay to be thought of as scary or strange. The cricket loves the night as well. He is always terrified of audiences, visible audiences. The night promises blackness and therefore, a silent, hidden audience. He is free to sing his song without constantly fearing critical eyes and stomping feet. This is when he sings his best. He sings children to sleep. He is the sound of a peaceful night. The stars love the night too. In the hours of the sun's constant luminosity, their lights are never perceived. The sun dominates the sky of the planet they adore so much. So, they await the night.

She knows all this. The heartbroken slight figure in the lazuline dress is aware of all of it. She carefully paces along the path. She has left the confining house and now ventures deeper into the dark. The moon fails to shine through the branches of the trees. She makes her way under and around the lurking trees. There is a boy there. He sits on the trunk of a recently fallen tree, caressing the bark and humming a quiet lullaby. She doesn't even hesitate. She ambles toward him.

He looks up and smiles.

"Where have you been?" She asks him not knowing why such words left her chapped lips.

"Waiting." He lifts his head to reveal his hypnotic eyes.

"For?" She inquired.

"You." He says in a velvet voice. He gestures to the space beside him.

She does not ponder the wisdom of this. She merely goes to sit by him.

"Are you alright?" He asks her.

"No." She replies leaning into him. Her head is cautiously resting on his shoulder now.

He nods and she feels him heave a sigh. "I know. Well, I'm here at least."

She instantly feels a million times better. "Why are you always here when I am?"

"I'm always here, love."

"Promise?" She is terrified he will disappear or be carried off by the wind. She feels her eyes close. The slumber she evaded earlier finally finds her.

"Promise." He says. His voice is lulling. It sounded faraway, nothing but a whisper of the wind. "I promise."


"You are so beautiful." The words only travel to the tip of my tongue. They wouldn't leave my lips. I suppose I'll always be the shy guy that just blends into the surroundings. But, she is so beautiful. Her flowing hair resembles a hazel mountain spring. Her eyes are ponds of utter perfection, ponds I could dive into and live out the rest of my sad life. Her face is the definition of flawless and her smile, the sun on a rainy day. Her smile is the ray that pierces the storm transforming the crepuscular scene into a sunshine sanctuary. Oddly, though her beauty crosses all boundaries known to me, she rarely smiles. Her days are spent under a sycamore tree, caressing veins of fallen leaves and watching the wind possess the grass. She has earbuds in her ears and nods her head to the beat of the drums. There is no one with her today. There hardly ever is. I must have moved in her peripheral vision because she pulls out her earbuds and lets her eyes range the compound. She spots me several yards away.

“Hi stranger.” She says in a musical soprano.
I emerge from my quiet spot. “Hi.” I almost stutter on the two letter word.
She smiles as if sensing my unsureness. “You’re away from everyone else.” She gestures to the crowd of people gathered at the cafeteria.
“Don’t like crowds.” I simply say, shoving my hands in my pockets.
“Same here.” She says. She pats the grass beside her. “Last I checked, two is company.”
I give her a wistful smile and comply.


Pane of glass, the transparent adversary
forbidding my flight but letting me see.
Rain has made its home
in this little town.
Darkness has become an ally
as it is always around.
Bedlam below, toilsome to ignore
but within me, chaos galore.
Tales of a thousand times
legends of a million lands
swim before my eyes,
drenching the strands.
His absence is where eyes look.
In it, everything fate took.

Wind, carry me to the moon.
Oh, how beautiful she is tonight.
She hardly loses luster,
her faraway form is shining bright.
Let me pace on her cotton candy,
reside within the meteor shower
paint careful lines to join celestial bodies
then ballet a high altitude
to see what the bird of night sees.

I'll leave no paper trail.
Let us finally set sail.
In the midst of the frigid deluge
and abundant darkness of this night,
take me to your palace, in the silver lining.
Allow my mind to omit what is right.
Take me to the place of dreams
before I'm ripped at the seams.

Shadow, come reap rubble and debris,
thieve all remnants of me.
Allow my feet to caress sand
of Neverland.

Well, you don't see this everyday

Even big brutes play in the pool once in a while.  :)

Soulmate in The Storm

The sky was more than an omnipresent grey… it was crepuscular. Mid-afternoon but the sky resembled twilight.  As I sauntered along at an old man’s pace on the blacktop of a worn road, I felt the first drops break free from the clouds. Cool, icy driblets descended from the ubiquitous grey clouds. They made strange polka dot like patterns on the sidewalk. Soon enough, the beads colored the whole sidewalk a darker, charcoal grey. The frigid tears from the heavens gently touched me, slowly made its way through my wavy, unkempt hair. I was going to be soaked. Already I was finding difficulty seeing past the sheets of rain. I wondered idly if this was what it was like if someone tried to peer out from inside a tornado. I realized that it was getting colder. The harmless zephyrs that were refreshing a while ago transformed into harsh, glacial winds. What’s a little rain? Shoving my hands in my coat, I continued strolling down the familiar streets of the town.

Then, the most amazing thing happened before my dumbfounded eyes. I squinted through the pelting rain to see a tall, lanky figure with a black umbrella making its way to me. After several moments, I heard the sound of his boots on the fast-growing puddles that decorated the ground. He wore the most awe-inspiring, the most beautiful smile I had ever seen in my entire existence. He was beautiful. Timid drops of rain adorned his hair. His eyes were endearing and blue. I felt as if they spoke a flummoxing, unearthly language I had never heard. His expression was kind, enchanting as he deliberately held the umbrella over me. My feet of their own accord moved closer to him so the umbrella was sufficient to shield the both of us. The falling bullets made loud, dissonant sounds against the nylon but my ears hardly made it out. The loud, pouring rain could not drown out the deafening rhythm my heart put forth. It fluttered quick and fast like the wings of a sweet hummingbird. My stomach was assaulted by the most violent butterflies ever. They played boisterously inside of me incognizant of my desire to maintain composure. The brief moment of shock soon passed and I managed to present him with a small smile as meager thanks for his consideration. He held out a hand and without pausing to think about anything, without pondering the wisdom of responding, I slipped my hand into his. His palm was solacing and warm. Warmth coursed through my felicitous veins and found my center. In one never-ending second, his eyes bored into mine. My heart, my entire frame trembled as if his gaze was so penetrating. Maybe, it was. I felt as though he saw deep into my soul and was satisfied, elated by what he saw. It was as if we knew each other. Without uttering a word, he gestured and led me to the nearest form of shelter - a bus stop. I was headed there before he came along.

Before we could sit, before I found my small voice to ask for his name, the bus came bustling. Its doors opened, inviting us in. I still hadn’t found the words. I ended up giving him a rueful smile and ascending the bus. He didn’t come along. Oddly enough, I didn’t expect him to. It was as if the magical time was over and it was time to return to cold, depressing reality. It was like the moment, the period of time when everything was how it should be had flitted by. It felt appropriate. Felicity of that magnitude must be ephemeral. Such happiness couldn’t be an abundant entity. Surely some balance must be struck in the ever-changing, perplexing universe. I found my seat and stared out the window where the boy still stood. The bus began crawling and the mysterious boy slowly disappeared from my view. His shape was obscured by the deluge. I smiled to myself, wholly certain I would see him again.

I Have Left The Shore

 Unlike so many,
I have left the shore
to sail raging seas.
If your desire is to drown me,
so be it.
If I should be engulfed
by eternal slumber
in which valleys
of dreams and nightmares
beckon to me
with beguiling eyes
and seawater lashes,
I can seek ways to make peace.
For, I have left the shore.


The unknown. There’s so much of it, so much that I have not experienced. The flame of curiosity and wonder is hard to keep burning. It can only burn so long. As winter slowly approaches, it is a mere flame atop a melting candle at mercy of the glacial breeze. I desire to swing open the doors and journey into a universe of only beauty. Perhaps when the blizzard is over…
I wish to fly up so high to see everything at a new perspective. I want to leave this confining four-walled room and set sail. I will one day sail across the ocean in an adorable yacht with a notebook in hand and a pencil in the other. I will sit precariously on a drop-off and take in the briny breeze of the ocean below. I will one day fly to the moon and see the universe how she sees. I will ice skate in the Atlantic and twirl like a ballerina on a gleaming floor. I will swim through crowds of people to finally see him again. I will conjure shapes in the clouds and paint them in varying shades of beauty. I will climb a mountain and smile down at the world beneath me, wondering all the while if I should ever go back down. I will sit alone one night, in twilight just to speak to a firefly. I will make a paper airplane and let the wind take it where she wishes to. I’ll visit an evergreen forest and release a purple balloon to see if it can make it past the canopy above. I will give a fortune to a homeless man so that he may find a better life with peace, joy and love. I will smile at the little girl who wishes she will become like me, play with her braid and promise her she will become much more. I will let my mind wander. Imagination will forever be my savior. I will let loose my soul and let her dance across the land. I will carve letters on the trunk of an oak and leave those initials for the wildlife to ponder. I long to write my name in the heavens. Sometime soon the cerulean sky will spell my name with puffy clouds of gracious smoke that will determinedly stay for eternity even when I have gone.