Friday, August 14, 2015

It would be absurd if we did not understand both angels and devils, since we invented them

 
Early Morning,Petaling Jaya, Malaysia


The Dreams I made of Sands,
And I broke them with my hands.

Dreams have been buried and the graves forgotten. Only to be remembered by the wild grasses which accidentally grow upon neglect. Or by the dogs who need a place to pee. Or by the adventurous lovers who take refuge in the silence of the graves in the night and rest under a blanket drinking hot wines and eating each other.

Or by the Stars? Which waited and waited for the dreams to take wings. Does a future that could not happen remember a past that could have been?  There is no one to ask and no one to tell. Because Time has killed everything. That is what it does. We are fools to believe the other way around. We don't have the power to kill Time. We never did. But, the time kills us with our own weapon. By Doing nothing.

Time is shrinking below our feet
I run to you, but we don't meet.

I don't know what shapes my fears are. Or what size?. I guess, my fears, like everything else are limited by my imagination. And probably Life is all about trying to put a name to that fear and spend your whole life either running from it or trying to overcome it. There are only three ways I know. Either live through it. Or love through it. And there is an unnamed middle path which most of us take. I am afraid that that is where I will end up. Living in the bridges in-between. But I won't fight. I will endure. Endurance is a fight in itself.

The wall in which I am caged,
Are wet with the tears of the sky.
The debt of lost moments is as true.
As the light of the moon is a lie.

This state. This time. This moment. We try to freeze it in our words, but the moment moves on. ever so slightly and fleetingly, unperturbed by our idiosyncrasies. Moment doesn't care about us, however much we care about them.

I have spent my time chasing whispers.
The voice within, so faint to hear.
They hide behind the sound of ruffling pages.
Because you are so far, and they are near.

I have been a blind man admiring himself in the mirror. Too busy trying to define things that can not be defined. How do you define a Shadow? A sunset? A rainbow? Whispers of Wind? Tug in Hearts? Truth? Silence between Lovers? 
So dear, I promise not to define you, but to understand you.

The tender tendrils of my tenacious thoughts,
A truth so elusive, A truth I sought.

Truth doesn't run anywhere. But, we part with it. And in the end, we chase it too. 
  
P.S - Title taken from the Book 'East of Eden' By John Steinbeck
Photo Credit: Me.