There are moments in your life where you wonder… are dreams worth it?
Would the ideology of perfection be littered with wisdom along its path?
The uncertainty of humanity is nothing short of poison as each limp to thread its own path, hand to grasp the nonexistence that is there. It is only air. It is only a breath. It is only a presence marked by a silhouette. Nothing more.
Nothing more.
And the wisdom so comes with the passing of experience only shush, the lips say. It is the fool who speaks.
And the hand that grasps.
The hand that grasps.
The hand that grasps.
I feel nothing in the end.
Amazingly enough, i do post this with a certain measure of guilt. However, laden with such emotions does not mean the world would desist from its turns. Though i wish a pit of fire simply swallow my whole being at this very moment, nothing should ever hinder these hands to write. Something i must condition my mind into acceptance i suppose.
However, today i do not arrive with odd tidings of madness or ravings from your chief hostess for some suppressed angst (though plenty i do stock. Believe me). Rather, today i wish to prattle on a play that my dearest Chibi-Jamie-=P (sorry, can’t help teasing yea mate) shared with me last Friday. It was a college production by the performing arts students of Sunway entitled Equus. Okay, mind you that i did not know the play was related to Daniel Radcliffe and his nudie scene then. Heck, i’ve never even heard of the play before that night. Yes, i know how unbelievably cultured i am.
Anyway, here i shall reproduce the synopsis that had been stated in their handbook.
"In Equus, a stable-boy who loves horses passionately suddenly blinds six horses with a metal-spike one night. Everyone, including his parents, is shocked by the violence of his act. After all, he is such a good and hardworking young man!
Why did he do it? What has gone wrong?
Refusing to give up on him, his psychiatrist works like a detective to uncover the events that led to that terrible crime. "
Well, i do have to say Peter Shaffer, is a brilliant playwright thought this might be more of an assumption than from direct observation. The story he wove was, well, for me a majority of it was not completely deeply moving though i believe it was in the manner of execution, some rather distracting coincidence presented at the beginning and… my assignment that i had handed in three hours plus before the play. The combination of these three occurences rather dampened the spirit of the show for me though, on the whole i would say that it was a presentation a notch above average.
I should mention that this was a play done by students of Sunway College.
The play was provocative, i can give you that. It asked questions of passion and reality -that was for me. Chibi said that for her, it spoke of religion- and how the Dr., so succesful yet seeking one pleasure that he could not find was torn at curing his latest patient. The message he sent in the end was really powerful and, perhaps personally, i found to be reassuring. It says that if you are passionate, it does not make you mad. That if you see things differently, it does not always reflect the darkness in your heart. I thought that was a powerful message because, often if you worship something like, say a horse people would try to cure you. If you are in love with a horse, you would be sent to an asylum at the day of your birth and attempt to straighten you out.
Okay, here was probably where i started seeing things as i learnt in Communications class, based on our interpretation of ‘reality’. Social norms are depicted by many things, the majority being people. When the parents had tried to cure the boy and after they went a little mad attempting to straighten him out, i realise how restricted society was and hoe cruel it could be.
Anyways, i thought the movement of the set was wonderful, as in the placement and replacement of props inclusive of using emotion to somehow piece the set back together. I seriously thought that was a stroke of genius when the kid, Alan i believe was throwing a tantrum and he simply picked pieces of the ‘furniture’ (which consisted of a few black boxes and a stool on the stage) and set them up for the next scene. The movements were fluid thus the next scene came effortlessly. There was a time when the focus of the audience was supposed to be set on the outskirts of the stage as the stage had been darkened for a change of scenes when the ruckus caused by the movement drowned the conversation for a moment. That was distracting and unfortunate. However, it was reaching towards the climax of the film (or passed it, really i don’t remember) thus, the audience (namely me) did feel the interest to puruse the conversation. This was where the excellent script takes the bill and become rather apparent in the duration of the play.
Another that i can give commendable praises for, would be the setting of lights. Really, Sunway has such a beautiful Theatre outfitted for such purposes and being there, aside from it being on the rooftop gave the ambience that plays need. Those who are moments away from an artistic display need these spaces to calm their mind. It was a beautiful set and a beautiful stage.
I am used to speaking of matters in retrospect because, to me, looking at things behind me, it burns the sharp edges thus what once can threaten becomes safe to touch. There be little reason for this entry. I guess i just wish to prattle a little and that’s it.
I wonder how does it feel to be perfection incarnate? Often these words crosses my lips though in silence it will be. I am used to seeing those with expectations only from themselves, demanding of themselves what is impossible. Is it to strive for that unknown perfection? And then there is the question of, what if they break? We love to see the big giants fall but… how tall are these giants? Haha… on the other hand, maybe it isn’t that that bothers me.
It becomes a domino effect. When you ask more of yourself, others would measure and somehow, along the way, such perfection is required. To live to their expectations rather than your own, life is always one vicious cycle where the causes and effect are apparent.
I suppose it is ridiculous to harp of such a thing. We are human, many would say. Let imperfection be the perfection within us. We are human, expectations are set goals. We are human, to compare is the human nature within us. We are human, ne? Self-righteousness is in our blood.
Humans are meant to be imperfect. We enjoy seeing the fall of others, relish the pain that others expreience. It makes us stronger, or feel it… or something?
If so, then where did this expectation for us to be perfect come from? How can you excuse the behavior of some yet dance with joy with others?
Ridiculous isn’t it, this question? If i sit across you, would you strike me for my impetulance? Or would it be out of frustration?
Hahaha… reading that now, i guess it does sound rather harsh but tempting, i know. I tend to crap myself towards the state of enlightenment. In a few years time, all you’ll find is a bitter old lady who swears the world will come to an end with humanities’ sins. Oh wait, i think i did that yesterday. Haha!! I guess i’m old already then.
Really, i have too much time to kill. Haih… but, getting all that down… It really made me feel better. ^_^ I really don’t understand why to a lot of people blogging seems to be an activity for the hopeless when, at some point it allows us to view the world with a sliver of redemption. Or me. Yeah. Generalization isn’t the best way to go.
I realize it’s stupid to question the nature of humanity. It’s easy to say that you don’t know why people do the things they do when, if you think about it, that is if you *really* want to think about it, no one has ever done anything without a reason. Every step is pre-destined by an action done perhaps years before. We are not formed in a single day, as our thoughts cannot be changed in pattern within a split second. Everything that occurs in our lives remain grained. We learn but we don’t know what we learned until later.
Okay, i digressed. Maybe if we don’t ask much from ourselves, the road might get easier. I always had this tendency to fail in a crucial moment. Put me in the spotlight and i’ll whither faster than any round fat flowers you know. A part of me is still trying to figure out why, but the other half already knows.
But, if you don’t ask anything from yourself, you might not get anywhere. Maybe it’s the relation between one human and the next? Hmm… the source of this…
Haha….
I guess i make a lowsy detective when it comes to thoughts. Anyways, i hope i didn’t scare you off. Even if i did… well, screw it. Happiness to you too! Byes~!!
I suppose it is odd to over-publicize moments of goodbye. It dilutes the situation somewhat of emotion once it is written in chronology with the days of your life. But, in my defense, i state that i rarely write within these pages save for epochs in my life where i stand at that two pronged road. Perhaps to others, this might be written to gain attention. Others, to integrate that grain of drama often absent in my life. But, true to my nature, i will state my purpose which is to preserve my memories and lessons which have taught me more than what we have learned in the standard classroom.
My year in MMU had been eventful. Colourful at best with rarely would there be the spots of black and white. There were characters, friends who forget to climb the social ladder, friends who remember but chooses not to, friends who treat your friendship as is, with no given unity of the heart and soul. There were friends who would see you fall, friends who never strove to carry you when you’re down, friends who at the same moment, even as they see you fall, at the next moment, they would offer to shoulder your burden. Friends who in the moxt unexpected moment show that they care. Friends who understand you. More than you think.
My moment of arrival was…. needless to say fascinating. I saw the move as necessary. Aside from the twisted arm and mangled pride, that is. Yeah, some would know this story. I was numb. It was unbelievable the chosen path for me was to be a course concerning computers. I was educated, yes, but walking down the same road with creatures i had once destroyed was… well, completely unforseen. Haha. Anyway, that was in the past. We would gladly do to remember of it. My years in Assunta tauht me insight. MMU taught me adaptation. I quickly discarded gender from criterias of friendship. That had been in the list for years XD
Friendship was never meant to be judged its depth. It is wrong to blame another for not caring for you the way others do. Every human has a natural need to be loved. As much as i wish to deny, the same thirst lies in me. I understand the gift of the heart is not the easiest to give and, concerning my pride, i never asked. Strength was also my weakness but years had given me the crutch most needed in their moments of adaptation. I had never broken from the old circle of friendship. They were my crutch thus before these people, i stand tall. Or proud. Whichever one you might choose =P
That was the first adaptation i made. I was fortunate to have been me in certain ways. Yes, there are moments i doubt my sanity. I wasn’t normal and i never said i will be. Never was that’s for sure. I battled with jealousy, feeling inferior to the next person, having to low down my personality in order to nurse my depression. It wasn’t the best moments of my life but, being with these people gave me a temporary high that was effective. It also gave me memories.
Crushes coming and going only never growing into anything more but, that was to be expected. I am unstable enough to stand on my own. Still i leaned on my friends for support, i worry i might crush those who come in my way. Only this i offer in explanation. I make a better friend anyway than anyone who is commited to do so.
Those were perhaps the two most important lessons i learned within those walls. There were trials that tested the strengths of friendship. Circles had formed, broken only to be forged once again in time. People rarely forget and you might have to learn forgiveness.
Then there are those whose wmotional graph is not particularly horizontal. They wer tough to deal with. Those with reason, i chose explanation however those without… i try my best to better my front. Perhaps it was only me who was responsible for these emotions. Truly you meet different people in your life. And to documentate their darker side would be to brand them but they are human. I see the light and the dark and often i judge the decisions of others. Perhaps almost as often as they judge my own.
We are different that to assume we fit as how puzzles fit is absurd. Spending more than 24 hours a day with a stranger whom you are not bound to cause tribulation which would have caused rife and in some situations it did. Emotions running rampant solves no story and writes only tragedies. Drama, i understand bolsters the otherwise somewhat dull lives of a University sitting on a hill with nothing surrounding it. The walls are supported by people and it will be the people to be the life behind those walls.
Yesterday we had the farewell party. In the beginning, we planned an activity filled day but… it was comforting to laze around with your pals. They were my last moments with them. Perhaps that was too drama queen of me to say, but, in certain senses, it is true. We would never be the same. From spending various hours in the class, to hanging out at the local cafe, to spending dinners together, these times have come to an end that i wish to mourn its lost.
Yet, i find my eyes dry. I have cried a few months past when i knew i was leaving, i suppose that this moment was inevitable. It hurt, knowing that we would hardly see each other but i have long since walked past the stages of denial and anger. I only have accpetance in my hand at that moment but i loved them more than anything. Friendship, i would cherish forever no matter how little it sounds across that distant island or may it be the foghorn which awakens you from slumber but i love them and the only gift that i can hand them, is the gift of memory. I can only offer you, the gift to never forget.
When it came to the moments to say goodbye, i did not want to let go. I did not wish to miss it. These are my friends that i’m talking about.
Thank you for all the experiences, the stories, the tears accompanied by laughter, the heartaches, the pain that has formed me. I have changed from who i was before but only in a way that made my skin more fluid to influences in life. I am stronger, i believe because i have battled demons that were absent in my life till that moment i entered those halls. Thank you for you gift. That is more than what i can say.
Haha. Life is weird. I find, even as it is my feet that trods on its soil, that even by detaching yourself from the common community, the ground will somehow find a way to open up and swallow you whole. No, unfortunately this does not happen in reality. The ground mercilessly stays solid in those moments where you long for god to plunge you into the heavens.
Anyways, as for the sudden entry into my dearest, neglected blog, i find that i have learned something along this rutted walkway. Life isn’t as bad as it seems. Yeah, spoken like a true optimist. Upon entering MMU, i thought that i had something to prove. To myself if none other. I asked if i possessed the strength to withstand what they wish to hand me. I thought that by surpassing their expectations, by showing that i am capable of surviving, i would be worthy. I wished to be strong. Would the defeat of self not constitute as strength?
Yet, i was weak in the end. I faltered when i should have not, questioning things which i should have not. Stupidity and egoism got in the way. I longed to be no puppet and wondered for my rights. And i fought when, in reality i should have not fought but i do not remember regret thus i do not ache in the end.
From this tale, i learnt a single lesson. Action must be taken for there to be consequences. Time does not miraculously heal. You have to urge it to heal. Human will is the most strongest thing in this world, my whole life i have pledged in this honesty. Thus, upon coming to a decision, there must be action.
Regardless of emotion, regardless of pain, of anything that might hinder its path. Technically, you don’t steamroll through. It is your path. The way is clear but you have to decide which road to take. And with each decision i engineer my thoughts to the least regrets. To one that i would not cry in shame at the thought of following it. But pain… pain is alright. It cannot break a person. Merely wound them. Though i would not recommend this to anyone though.
Every man has the right to happiness. If it were my wish, i would ask everyone to smile a sweet, genuine smile full of mirth and pleasure. The contentment of life is meant to serve and only within this, will we heal. In the end, this is all that matters.
So, for the sake of your joy and, perhaps if it is allowed, for my own.
Mother;
Where has your eyes gone?
Life and spark dead across dull green,
Drowned in sorrow.
Each orb searching,
Seeking,
Your heart beats no more.
[What can i see?]
Mother;
Where has your life gone?
Like darkness creeping across an empty page,
Red scars tearing across black,
It bleeds and eyes that cry though we see not the tears,
Your worldly cage a curse upon your soul.
It was within our hands [judgement],
And we have failed [Forgive us],
[Where have they gone?]
Mother;
Where is your soul?
Taken by the devils who do not care,
As mothers milk seeped onto tainted soil.
[They do not care]
Heart beat in agony,
[Thrumming, thrashing]
[They do not care]
Cries of calling and pain,
[I long for comfort]
[Heal me]
We do not care.
Mother;
They are gone,
Children you do not see,
Life you cannot feel,
And the soul,
The soul you left behind.
[I am dying within]
You bear the curse of humanity,
For in your face,
I see the hands of man.
[I will die,
As how you have killed the rest of me]
~Owari~
That was a tribute to a cat here, in the hostel. The people here had in an act of animal cruelty tear her from her kittens. Their hands forced four into one garbage bag, each clawing for freedom. But no. We have to live up to our names as humanity. She is lost now, without her children as many, humans, dogs, birds and those who are mothers wuld be lost with the death of her child.
Literature-wise, it might be lacking many. I have not written for a long time and it might come across much more angsty then melancholy which was meant to be the right reaction. I might have incorporated too much of my anger within the poem so there would no doubt be awkwardness there. I am disappointed with myself, for not reacting when they had done it, for not healing the cat, now that she is a lost soul and lastly for embarrassing myelf as a writer. I wish to be more than this. And i pray i will be.
Please Hear
What I’m Not Saying
Don’t be fooled by me.
Don’t be fooled by the face I
wear
for I wear a mask, a thousand
masks,
masks that I’m afraid to take
off,
and none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that’s
second nature with me,
but don’t be fooled,
for God’s sake don’t be fooled.
I give you the impression that
I’m secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled
with me, within as well
as without,
that confidence is my name and
coolness my game,
that the water’s calm and I’m
in command
and that I need no one,
but don’t believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but
my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and
ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear,
and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don’t
want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my
weakness exposed.
That’s why I frantically create
a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated
facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance
that knows.
But such a glance is precisely
my salvation, my only hope,
and I know it.
That is, if it’s followed by
acceptance,
if it’s followed by love.
It’s the only thing that can
liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison
walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly
erect.
It’s the only thing that will
assure me
of what I can’t assure myself,
that I’m really worth
something.
But I don’t tell you
this. I don’t dare to, I’m afraid to.
I’m afraid your glance will not
be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I’m afraid you’ll think less of
me,
that you’ll laugh, and your
laugh would kill me.
I’m afraid that deep-down I’m
nothing
and that you will see this and
reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate
pretending game,
with a facade of assurance
without
and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but
empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I tell you everything that’s
really nothing,
and nothing of what’s
everything,
of what’s crying within me.
So when I’m going through my
routine
do not be fooled by what I’m
saying.
Please listen carefully and try
to hear what I’m not saying,
what I’d like to be able to
say,
what for survival I need to
say,
but what I can’t say.
I don’t like hiding.
I don’t like playing
superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and
spontaneous and me
but you’ve got to help me.
You’ve got to hold out your
hand
even when that’s the last thing
I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my
eyes
the blank stare of the
breathing dead.
Only you can call me into
aliveness.
Each time you’re kind, and
gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand
because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings–
very small wings,
very feeble wings,
but wings!
With your power to touch me
into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how
important you are to me,
how you can be a creator–an
honest-to-God creator–
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the
wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from
my shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.
Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of
worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me
the blinder I may strike back.
It’s irrational, but despite
what the books say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing
I cry out for.
But I am told that love is
stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those
walls
with firm hands but with gentle
hands
for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very
well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.
Charles C. Finn
September
1966
This was a poem i found online after surfing through countless pages proclaiming the quotes of harmony and whatnots that most completely fall short of, or extremely went off on a perfect tangent relating to the subject. This was written by Charles C. Finn and, well, i was trying to find a way to spread it to those around me without being particularly forceful about it! Sleepy at the moment, but i’ll plunge through anyways.
As i read the poem above, i felt such truth within those words, the pure honesty and how reflective it was on my life as well as any others. ^_^ I suppose perhaps it was a little selfish that my first thoughts would be on my own, feeling all indignant and regal that…. truth be told, and as mentioned in the 700 over words above, it was common for all to feel inferior to those that we stand beside. Complete ease rarely exists in this world and i suppose, belonging to the sole club consisting of only one prioritizing self-importance, it is a place that i seek uppermost and with all my will.
Often i believe i might find by the sides of our very bloodkin, yet time had proven that blood can be as corrosive as water. The life it gives cannot fully make for what it had taken. Yet, perhaps that is through my eyes.
There are many words that i wish to pen, yet, this is not the language i wish to speak. If you understand what i have just said, drop me a line. We might have more in common than you can imagine. Forgive me for cutting this short. Thank you.
Words fail to describe what the heart wishes to preach. I suppose by setting it in stone, the pebble, or perhaps in this case granite rock would disappear beneath the placid lake. But it might not. It may never. This tongue has become prone to speaking in the dual language of man, dwelling not on what we see but what we feel. I have become far too indulgent within myself, and for this, i seek your forgiveness.
I cannot see though blind, my other senses should have spread its faulty wings. Yet it did not. It could not. And because of this, i have sinned. No. It is not a sin that reaches the hands of God. Rather i have sinned myself, in the name of a human and also, to those whom i call friends.
I do not know how much you see and what offense have been taken on your part. I do not know how much these eyes have hurt you, followed strongly by this tongue and lastly by this heart.
I apologize because i have underestimated you.
I seek your forgiveness for not standing by your side.
It was not within me to understand for the tainted are distorted in comparison to those who are pure.
I cannot assure you that this will not happen once again. It will occur once the session begins, thus the wheel turns, on certain ends lay the marks of black blood. It will hit the gong of fate. Do not misunderstand. The fault is my own though i so wish to distance myself from the cause. I cannot ask for understanding. It is unfair. But i will seek your forgiveness. For my eyes will be blinded once again. And i pray i will hate myself for it.
Forgive me.
Hmm… a month already into uni and we see some chinks in our armor. Who ever thought that being in a suit of tin would cause sound to resonate WITHIN itself?! (Okey, now we know the intro, you guys know that i ain’t gonna be speaking english, so to save your sorry hides, i’d advise you to buzz off. Thank you.)
Yep, basically that’s the whole scenario. Ain’t seeing anybody experiencing the same thing, so, why should i bother right? My mouth which used to be in full motor mode has ran out of batteries. Is it puberty? Has thy brain finally matured to the point of silence? Like, way weird, like and language, which used to be my forte… oops, let me correct that, the english language, which used to be my forte has completely dwindled to nothingness. (Forgive me friends and family whose ears bleed due to the recycled subject -_-!!!!)
I guess it becomes really painful when everything becomes purely reflexive on the surface of that shiny mirror (making it cryptic in case you haven’t noticed… don’t want too many people understanding this…) Gah!!! Can’t listen and speak at the same time!!! When your voice is dying to be heard, you won’t be prone to listen to others, as we have painfully discovered. Urgh, shall we ask THE question? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
Feel like hitting my head on the wall, but heck, tried that several times and…. IT AIN’T WORKING!!! Gah! If only life is like math. There is a solution as long as you just stick it out.
The prob: Not speaking the same language as fellow homosapiens.
Solution: Shut up for the rest of my life?
And people wonder why i’m quiet.
Shall we weigh the pros and cons?
Hmm… let’s start. We get to hear other people. *CHEER!* I don’t get heard *silence*
ME I: Does it matter?
ME II: Like duh, it does. I want things to be as they were before.
ME I: Wake up and look at the alarm clock. The bells rung long ago. It ain’t the same clock any more, dearie.
ME II: Well… why CAN’T it be? Talking ain’t hard. You just open your mouth and ring those vocal chords. Ain’t sounding difficult to me.
ME I: See? You can’t even type crap. Ring those vocal chords? Why don’t you just try to be a biologist, for heaven’s sake? And don’t get started on wavelengths and amplitudes. And don’t give me any philosophy crap either. Sheesh, humans these days. Speak my language, man!
ME II: You know, it is moments like these that i am thankful no one knows that i exist. The extent of my weirdness is complete. Thus we have enstablished that we are no longer a part of the homosapien species.
Hearing my voice echo right back at me is pretty cool, but, that’s probably only in my dreams. In reality? It sucks to the max. I’m having communication problems, system malfunction, Contol’s down. Heck, all system’s haywire and we DON’T EVEN KNOW THE SOURCE!!!
Is it the new environment? Culture Shock? Yo brain, there’s hardly a culture for you to be shocked with!! Or are you still damned pissed with some people whom we should not be pissed with? No entry zone. Back off and lay down your weapons.
Not studying, not communicating and not writing. Not drawing, not reading, not DOING ANYTHING PRODUCTIVE!!! Hello? Anyone home?
I think this is a growth spurt. The growth spurt of the human brain…. Suddenly i don’t feel like i’m 12 anymore….
I know, even without your presence, the questions you would ask.
You would ask why. I would not reply. Any answer i would have given would be sacrilege. It would be wrong. I do not know my future. You are well acquainted with the workings of the world. I am not. In a nutshell, i am stupid.
Denial strikes me hard, but reality has always accompanied my journey. Though you say not those words, i hear them in my ears. Do not worry. I would not answer. Thus, you would follow with another statement, hurt gashes from the tone used. You would ask me what more do i want.
If i were capale of answering, i would say, ‘it does not matter what i want. it is what you want.’
And your heart, already torn would be ripped into smaller pieces. You would see me for the ungrateful brat that i was. My soul does not fit within the mould you have tediously shaped since my birth. You are disappointed. Your tongue wishing to retort how life was always meant to be unfair. I understand. Joy and happiness are merely illusions. If possible, i wish to be a step ahead of you.
My tongue quotes your words. ‘Life is meant to be hard. It will always be unfair. No matter what you do, there will always be others who are better than you. If i wish to walk the line, there would be no one to catch me when i fall. I have accepted the fact. I understand, the path you have chosen for me, is well suited for this lack of intelligence that i own. I understand, the ruts, and holes, stones jutting at awkward places, causing my feet to knot and my face to smash into the sharp tarred road below were a part of life. A part of my life.
Dreams are only lies, are they not?
I know the dark sky hovering above is nothing more than a sober cage of the spirit. I understand. I too know, that when you look at me in the future, standing tall where you wish for me to reach, you would be proud. I know that as you see me, filthy, scarred, tossed and bashed, open wounds of the flesh bleeding profusely mingling with the life liquid of my torn heart, joy would claim you. I understand that as you view my body, raped, tattered and dirt marring my already ugly features, eyes blind, hands tied, feet forcefully thrusting forward in the near darkness, you would understand. Happiness begins not to describe the extent of your emotions.
Light on that one day would finally shine past the horizon where eclipse have always occured at dawn. The day after, i would wake no more. And that day, will be the day, that both you and i will smile.
