hamster wheel

when a vicious cycle reaches the end of its interval

it can be relied upon that my conscience has learnt

how to repair its glasses first,  how to refuse the acid

i always said “protect the ruins”, but i’d rather they burn to ashes.

we do not have to be opponents, young one—

for our curves only ever approximate

i do not have to reciprocate animosity

when the stage is yours rightfully

outdo me, outshine me, you will spot me sitting in the first row

earn your accolades, little fledgling; i will seek my own applause.

 

 

 

Compass Leading Hopewards

“What was I born for?” –

these words feel like a déjà-vu.

It seems like I have travelled through a thousand stories

Collected a bright string of multichrome memories

Only to find myself in a place I have grown so used to reaching.

 

My inner child running towards the horizon, waving her paper kite against the storm

Shooting me an audacious smile –

Sometimes, I watch you with awe

Sometimes, with disquiet.

 

Even on my way home,

when the fine rain intermingles with the sounds of airplanes and tires

Foil against aleatorik, chirping resounds with unrivaled cheeriness;

I lift my gaze, and it almost seems as if

My feathery friend sets off into heights I am not to familiarize myself with…

 

I, too, lack courage at times

I, too, lack answers at times

If everyone else figures it out, then why not I?

 

And just like the chirps, the beams make their way with obstinacy,

reflecting lush on the leaves the wind blew against the paving

Are the chirps becoming clear? Or how are these the things I hear:

“direct your steps hopewards –

this is where the skilled travellers go.

The beginning of each new morning will bear confusion, but

each loss is succeeded by new gain.”

 

The cherry blossom islands I fancied as a child, floating high above the clouds

I need to grow more to touch them, if only with my fingertips

 

 

 

she is a possibility, and i call her “flame”

her myth precedes her, and presides

the whimsical outflows of the springs of time

she is a beauty, i hear, when beheld from afar

(from close up, what then titillated nearly repels:

as is oft the case with wishes upon a star)

she knows to be curse or blessing in disguise

she sings and hums in the wind’s respites

once i allude to my future, claim it does not exist

on my contradicting myself, she is first to insist:

“if you can think it, it is, as for how else

do i bubble up every morning inside your well?

why question my materiality

when it lives in the intersection of your limits and reality’s?”

she is here, but not here,

wails at my every adversity

yet when i ask in indignation for a helping hand, she

evaporates into thin air

as if never seen, never been

leaving me on the verge of lunacy;

and as if someone knew, they inaudibly speak:

“if you wish to find me again,

don’t look for things that others achieve

what they built with their very own hands

are not the words wherein i breathe”

but i don’t know where to go, i whisper

i don’t know where my steps lead

“smell the air and head for freshness

at the end of the road, i will accept your complaint.

if you learn to forgo, you learn to outgrow.

the flame is waiting at the end.”

Your Rainbow-colored Melody

To the one whose laugh echoes songfully

at the outset of a first brightening:

After a long, long journey

the last page of our prelude is written,

and the sun glitter stretching far to the horizon

greets this new morning sounding the bells of destiny.

 

We have always faced the world candidly, both you and I.

We have always put forward our best bravado

During tough times, we called out each other’s name, right?

It cried and smiled with us, this clear blue sky

Sending our sincerity across cliffs and tides

 

Whose heartbeat is it that resounds in my chest, and

Whose cool fingers touch my salt-rosy cheeks?

Does the foam gathered around my feet carry a message for me?

If so, then…

 

See you soon! I will meet you at the seaside

On this day with the warm wind blowing

Where we will walk along the azure infinity with interlocked fingers

And the cranes return from southern climes

 

We have always practiced abnegation, both you and I.

We have always striven for everyone’s happiness

But on this day, an old life ends and… a new one begins…

 

See you soon! I will meet you at the seaside

On this morning with the earth’s bliss shining

And if one were to seek us, our footprints would be a guide

The seaside of our hearts is awash with light

 

I have always run towards my goals with resolve and fervor

Defended my childish dreams, picked up fights in stride

So far, I do not know where our paths lead, but

I know of a place in the future that awaits our arrival in time

 

See you soon! – I say – I will meet you at the seaside

And your laugh echoes in the wind…

How to catch up

If you see me as inspiration, know that I’m not:
I am made of flesh and bones
A mind that is light-years ahead of yours
A heart that breathes love like unpolluted air
And a little sparkle, a neologism
that means gibberish and marks difference
I am not verdancy, not glasses, not messy hair
Best forget me if you have no millenary to spare
To write down the words, learn the notes of the scale
You claim to understand the conscious
You claim to know the structure of truth
Yet I remain opaque in my very opacity
As the laws of nature do not apply to me
If you see me as inspiration, limit me no longer
Liberate yourself of ideations of your fancy
This woman is beyond comprehension in her simplicity
My tongue speaks thunder
My hands work wonders
I seek and seek and arrive nowhere
Yes, in that respect, we do not differ
Yet hear a last tidbit of my tenacity:
I cannot give up searching
I cannot sit idle and play by rules others wrote for me
So if you see me as inspiration, know that I envy
how your journey granted you answers abundantly
Our paths crossed and they seperate:
Your answers are right to your feet
My feet have yet to carry me
to the land of milk and honey
To the sacred abode of my answers
and the conundra that must surely await me

Through The Looking Glass

Your thoughts wander.
You float in the sea, and bathe in the afterglow’s play.
Out of nowhere, a negative thought rises to surface –
You breathe in, and you close your eyes.
You sink –
You sink gleefully –
You surrender your sense of everything.
The photons coalesce,
your heartbeat melds with the sea’s,
and azure has lost all of its historicity –
So how do you still hear
your veins’ quiet whisperings?
How does your shell prepare for ascent
When your ghost still swims merrily?
And when you break through the mirror,
an unshrinking you grazes your face,
just merely,
just slightly –
In anything but, yet just five minutes…
You open your eyes.
You shake your head.
You sit up straight –
You resume your work.
There’s a lot to be done.
(Little is won by delving too long in my own universe.)

Inspiration came from a scene in an anime I watched yesterday as my bedtime story, which, in my opinion, illustrates this stream of consciousness quite well. 

renaissance (The Quest for the I)

My train to nowhere
where are you leading me?
The wagons are my sleeping place
but oftentimes, I
end up gazing at the stars instead
twinkling down from the velvet sky
Visions of the past flashing by
and I weep for chances bygone
prospects deceived
fates existent in their potentiality, and –
poof! –
like a soap bubble –
fates that were not meant for me
But once morning arrives
and the windows are surrounded anew
by the now-familiar greenery
the sun reflects in my mirror eyes
and I realize: no longer am I a moon –
 
Where is my train taking me?
Where have I set off to so late –
yet not too soon?