I want to live my life like a bursting spark of fireworks before it dissipates into thin air.
I am one of the many roses in the rose bushes, and soon, you will forget me like all the others before me.
There is a beauty in writing prose that pictures can’t unfold. That it’s the song in our souls that matter more than appearances.
In my dance I want to communicate my artistry in my transient flight on earth.
The poetry in my dance is no lesser than my fight for life.
My love is boundless like the ocean.
The waves sweeps the world under as
We submerge into the depths
in this universal flow of energy.
When pain is transmuted to pleasure,
the sublime thin line between our nerve endings,
flesh to flesh,
in our embrace in our never ending dance
creates new worlds of happy ever afters.
We will wave our goodbyes and soon we may meet again, in this life, our next lives and the lives before.
In this cyclic world of what comes and goes like the wind.
There is no physicality to love, it can’t be proven or extracted or quantified.
Yet, it is the greatest form of ecstasy available to mankind.
It is the greatest elusive form that will not take shape till one commits to creating love out of nothing.
Yet, everything around us conditions us not to create it, but destroy and deny it.
However, it could be when one recognises love exists in the universe and we are all creations of love, that it could materialise into ecstasy by the form of numerous creations one could potentially create out of creating love and beauty to the world. It is the air we breathe, the songs we sing, the movements we make. Every part of us is filled with love, and without love, there is no aliveness. For love is aliveness itself.
Love is in the form of dynamic movement between individuals, groups and it radiates out to the universe, that they share the love we have for each other, baking and partaking in it in an endless dance in the cosmos. Love contributes all over the way it is and the way it isn’t. Love is the space beyond words. It has never been bounded by space and time, and love will exist even when we are gone, love will remain where it is, and where it isn’t. For humans had created the context of love to live into, and from this context, we can create and create, build and build on being magnificent in our love for each other.
I love you. For this, I beat on against the currents like the boats in the sea for the love lives on deep inside me.
In this transient passage of time, we will meet others in our path. One thing for sure is that we are all going to die. What we make now from our journey to the point of death is the only thing that matters. From this blank state of canvas, what is the picture we will paint today for our reality? What is the world we will create around us?
I discovered through disappearing, that everything becomes nothing. Like a black hole, everything gets sucked into nothingness and dissipates. We inherently have the ability to disappear problems by recreating, reconstituting, reconstructing. The very act of disappearing is a black hole phenomenon. We have the ability to disappear and recreate, disappear and recreate. It is an ongoing what we declare in language that constitutes what happens next, next and next.
I never felt ready for the world, I held back and limited myself by letting my fears take over who I am. But who I am for the world is beyond who I am, I am ready to take flight, I am ready to disappear myself and reconstitute and recreate my reality by consideration. By consideration by waving a magic wand, I can create a life that contributes love, beauty and knowledge all over in all my interactions with others.
I gave birth to a baby boy, after embracing his warmth in my arms I fell asleep.
I woke up and his head dropped from his body like a doll and it became lifeless.
I cried my eyes out and realised that the baby’s body had turned gray.
I met my shadow self. My dark identity. It was a shadow, with no face.
She was as tall as me, but instead of the shadow on the floor, it was a shadow facing me.
She was full of dark energy, full of hate, full of violence, full of anger.
She offered to take me to the shadows, not to wake up in colour but in a world of black and white.
I said I am not ready, I don’t want to die. I want to live. Don’t take me. I know you had controlled me, you had cursed those who had hurt me, you had protected me. As the shadow, as you are, you had followed behind me since I had a physical self. But I am not ready to join the shadows. I want to live.
Life lines are hanging on electric poles
There is no electricity, just the illusion of electricity
There is no fear, just the illusion of fear
There is no history, just the continuous rewriting of history.
What we believe today, may be changed tomorrow.
The tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
It isn’t today, today, today.
Fear is the biggest illusion.
We are all free to be.
Make it happen.
She sat on the circular table once, but now that seat remains empty. The circle now has a hole. It’s an incomplete circle but a curved line with no joined endings.
“It’s unauspicious to leave a gap on a circular table,” my grand uncle said, beckoning for her young son to seat in the empty chair although he can’t fit comfortably in an adult sized chair.
The sudden departure of her years ago, in this exact same moment, seemed like it was a second passed. Her son sulks in her seat, turning backwards to face the television.
It just isn’t the same, isn’t the same without her booming laughter. There was awkward silences and pauses in the conversation that was once filled with her loud voice.
Once upon a time, she flew the skies as a stewardess in a sarong kabaya. She met an Irishman and gave life to three beautiful Eurasian kids. The youngest, who looked uncanny like her but with dark brown eyes, now sat beside me on the circular table. He continued to watch the television.
I paid attention to every single detail, soaking the conversation in like it may be the last moment before someone goes to the next world. There are no warnings, no signs. The silent killer lurks deeply embedded in our DNA. There is no running or hiding, it strikes when no one is looking, in the pink of health, in the moment of joy.
When it was time to leave my grand uncle called from behind, “Where’s your lover? Bring him to me!”
I chirped like a nightingale and ran towards the sunset. Running and running through fortresses, castles and ancient ruins. Lost in my wanderlust of endless adventure. My dreams of conquering the world with my words, conjoined with my lover in a black cocoon covered by my long hair in our dance before we emerging as butterflies.
She once sang a song in the skies. One day I will meet her in the heaven and tell her about all the worlds I wrote. She would say to me in her resonant voice, “Well done, you had completed the full circle.”
