Reflections of the new year

Did you ever wonder if the person in the puddle is real, and you’re just a reflection of him/her?

The world and life in general is an enigma. A paradox, scaringly ugly yet so beautiful at the same time.

I am fascinated by life and living. The fact that there are feelings, natural phenomena, the seen, the unseen, what has been discovered, that which is yet to be discovered and that which will never be discovered blows my mind.I imagine we are living in a growing bubble and the bigger picture is what surrounds this induced bubble.

I realize that life generally becomes harder because of expectations, unseen goals and lines drawn by the world, the society. By man, one of the most frail beings in the world . Yet at the same time as much as these laws have destroyed so have they saved.

We are only lucky because we have the gift of a brain that has the capacity to discern. Otherwise, we could have been toast.This is also a questionable theory as most things in the universe. Most of beings in this world other than man-snakes,crawling bugs, spiders, lions, insects just to mention a few (you can clearly tell I’ve been watching too much National Geographic) are mostly more dangerous with little or no brain activity at all. So is it really our brains that protect us?

While we humans try to explain all these and fit it inside our daily ways of lives, truth is many more will remain unsolved. Therefore, the best thing we can truly do is do our best, whatever that may be and similarly stand against injustice.

To this and more yet unsaid, have a successful 2018!

Conversation

The surgeon

She now knew her death was inevitable, and with that acceptance came liberation. The courage of the condemned.


His eyes held nothingness,

Just two black orbs,

Neither blinking nor watering.

His hands were bony and rough,

Holding the razor sharpened scapels .

And for a little while,

I must Confess,

I was scared.

As he reached towards my insides.

With a snip,

I saw him tear all the chords,

That invisibly kept me together,

He kept going and going,

Cutting and cutting,

Snip! snip! snip! Snip!

Until all that remained of me

Was armorphic and mutilated,

Torn,

Just a liquid mess that left a revolting taste in my mouth,

So I hanged there over his head,

Hoping he’d finish it all,

But he never did,

Leaving the pain to emancipate me,

And I knew he had no humanity

Truth and fiction

Truth is always strange, stranger than fiction ~Lord Byron


Don’t call me again dear one,

For the gods have taken back the ocean,

Seized the lands and altered the weather.

It is not your destiny that you see me die,

For even our forefathers predicted that this day would come,

and I am powerless and Silent like never before,

My body reeks of treacherous paths,

A map to disastrous lands,

My feet are so numb I forget they are there.


You see dear one,

You do not deserve to see me this way,

I will only bring you pain as I have the others,

Now they have cast me away,

They could not handle the darkness,

And the light mixed together,

It scares them,

Drives them to the edge,

Neither blame them nor the universe,

They do not Relate, they never have.

You need to understand ,

This is how it must be,

It’s how it all ends.

Consequences

There’s no good or bad in the universe,  only action and consequences ~Anon

He doesn’t look at me the same way again,

He never will,

Now all I see is a bolt of lightning,

Ready to devour me for the
Miraculous mistakes,

I so duly committed.

They say to be human is to make mistakes,

But is it my Calling to ask the questions,

Why do I hear thunder,

When he cries,

in the middle of the night?

Why do my insides feel like,

Artemis is playing an accordion?

I know now,

That to whom more is given,

More is required,

And I’ll never know the light anymore,

For he holds it in his fingers,

to suffer I must,

For the sake of all who come after me.

Now that it’s broken,

This fragile porcelain doll,

Will haunt me forever ,

My mother will be a pillar of salt,

My sisters sent to another land

And my fathers eyes will never be bright again.

It’s all in your head

Remember: It’s all in your head… all of it. If you don’t like the story, change it. ~Steve Maraboli


Do not take me at face value,

I’m the monster under your bed,

In the cracks of your little apartment house,

Your favorite band poster,

The edges of your classroom doors,

the shadows cast on your window,

The croaking in your tap.


I’m the sound of wind on your face,

The footsteps in the middle of the night,

The light that shines in the morning.

I ooze on your bathroom floor,

Slither in your closet,

Walk alongside you,

And fly around your head.


I’m the blood that rushes through your veins,

The beating of your heart,

The sweat glistening on your skin,

The heaviness in your head,

The numbness of your feet,

and the pain between your toes.


I am the Legend of your story,

The Theory of your physics class,

Your failed chemistry experiments,

The magnificent stars in the sky,

The colors you perceive,

Your tarrot readings.


I’m nothing yet eveything,

Here, there and everywhere,

I’m who you want me to be.

Trust me it’s all in your head,

and it doesn’t make it less real.

Dark Thoughts

Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.

Dark thoughts aren’t just born in the night,

I should know.


Tell me,

Doesn’t your mind freely drift away,

At the brightness of moments,

Seeking, searching, exploring

The depths of your hell of a mind,

Subduing, vanquishing, dividing and conquering,

Craving that which won’t be?


Do you not think of how crushed your skull would be,

Underneath a mangled wreck?

Murkiness, Darkness.

Forgive me,

shouldn’t I have voiced that?

Just kept it in the rusty corners of my being,

All silent, hushed,voiceless, tight-lipped?


Aren’t you all like me,

Finding peace and silence,

Swimming in the depths of a fire,

Holding your breath for so long,

That you forget the use of beathing,

Don’t you wake up laughing when,

You see his crooked elbow,

aiming a gun towards your head?


Tell me this,

How do you drown the darkness of your heart?

Because every time I look at you,

I see it seeping through the cracks of your broken heart,

And I want to soak it all in.

Yet all you exude is light.

How do you rid of the sickness of dark thoughts?

In the light of day, at noon?


No you don’t want it,

nor do you wish on it,

It just surfaces and finds you.

Dreams, fantasies, visions, nightmares

Dark,unlit, pitch-black and gloomy

Just like your soul.

Dark thoughts aren’t born in the night,

I should know

Black

The Voices

The voices in my head, they don’t care what I do, they just want to argue the matter through and through~Leonard Cohen


When I was eleven, I used to hear voices inside my head.Fading,omnious,faint, indistict murmurs.Like a mechanics workshop, it never really got quite. I thought it was Dubious. I was uncertain, and unsure about whether I was normal. I asked my closest friend whether she had heard them, she hadn’t, but it was amusing, entertaining, hysterical, side-splitting. For a whole ten minutes we were in stiches, while she asked me to narrate over and over how much the sounds freaked me during the quite exam hours. Or during preps when all was so calm. We disregarded the matter and that was the end.


I’ve been hearing the same voices again. It came to me so clearly tonight.Like a guitar Riff in the back of my mind. I tried to helplessly fight it to no avail. For a moment my head violently buzzed and felt heavy. It was in full gear. No longer faint or indistinct or a murmur and all I could think of was the face of the voice. The clarity, it’s nearness, it’s warmth covering my soul. Now I know I’m special, not normal, not crazy. It’s the face of destiny. It’s loneliness,happiness, sadness, excitment, despair. All mixed into one heavenly bowl and poured into me. This is both life and death at the same time. It’s me.