Drawbridge

watching the rain from behind a window can make one pensive.
a situational button that triggers the connection between heart and mind.
like a drawbridge lowered to a castle – old, dusty and untouched.
the memory of rooms and hallways is hazy, fleeting vague images.
the passages are hard to traverse, so unfamiliar and forgotten.
so let me just sit here for a while.
for in a moment, this will all pass back into oblivion.

today is one of those days where i allow my thoughts to indulge themselves.

growing up, i learned that there were two types of questions: worthy questions and stupid questions.
often, if i asked the latter, i’d get frustrated responses that would elicit a barrage of emotions signalling some extent of impairment or imcompetency.
it would usually feel like the fault was mine for raising such a ridiculous query.
for a long time, i thought i was the only one afflicted with this “condition”.
then, as i moved through different phases and met a variety of human beings, i realized that it was simply a matter of processing style.
some were better with the abstract, big picture stuff; others were better at the concrete, detailed stuff.
some found it easier to store and manipulate information presented in audio formats, others in visual formats.
the degree of diversity in perspectives is enormous, and completely intentional.
we were not meant to feel the same way, think the same way or do things the same way.
because of these differences, it seems only logical to expect miscommunication and misunderstanding.
and doesn’t it follow that the way around this is asking earnest questions and seeking first to understand?
ascribing a valence to questions, then, is irrelevant and non-value added.
not easy to avoid, but completely necessary.

always tending towards the glass half empty.
expecting malevolent intentions, assuming the worst.
but you, you fill up that glass good with your worldview.
“just try your best”, you say, “that’s all you can do”.
“and no matter what, i’ll be with you”.

but you love me, you love me
why the hell you love me so
when you could have anyone else
he loves me, he loves me
and i bet he never lets me go
and shows me how to love myself.

An Under Mine

this one thing, situated right at the core.
highly guarded and infinitely tender.
plans of reverence and personal meaning were made.
not without clarity of thought, but for a careless comment to wreak such havoc.
to question the foundation held, to incite temporary outrage.
where did that come from?
maybe the deeper awareness that we have yet to be walking straight.

a tiny carbon element.
experiencing force from a multitude of directions.
under a high enough pressure, a diamond emerges.

“The most important things are the hardest to say.
They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them – words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out.
But it’s more than that, isn’t it?
The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away.
And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it.
That’s the worst, I think.
When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”
– Different Seasons, Stephen King –

10 Oct 2017, 1913.
i can see why the kids would choose animals over humans.
they’re simply… easier.
no unruly interpretations of actions, no arbitrary social conventions, no second-guesses about oft-implicit intentions.
what you see is what you get.
we have evolved, as evidenced by our larger and more elaborate brains.
but have we really?

an infant’s cry, loud and unabashed.
caring for no thought nor feeling.
when else will you see a person in his truest state?

the show must go on
inside my heart is breaking
my makeup may be flaking
but my smile still stays on.

Shift

not bringing life to work and work to life.
a compartmentalization achieved by most.

answers, solutions, surety.
when do you know?
when should you know?
do we await rightness, peace?
something logic cannot allude to.

oh, the injustice.
see, that suffering.
precisely out of our hands.
that births a cynic, a white-flag bearer of a different sort.
more so in this age, a greater susceptibility.
because we have it good.

counting the blessings as we go.
the subtle trials and errors on unfamiliar terrain.
a workout in thankfulness, resurfaced.
enter, question and without prescription.
disciplined and appropriately calculated.
to want to do better above all else.
where do i find one such as he?

we try, we may fall but we get up again
and we know that our road is better with every bend
so we climb higher, ever higher, knowing there’s never an end
we’ll keep running forever.

Passion

i find this situation terribly comical and tragic all at once.

a race car driver.
working a feverish acceleration to the finish line he visualizes and pursues.
he rounds bends, takes risks and puts himself out there.
lap after lap – repeating, refining, perfecting.
pitting himself against not just the other frontrunners but against the clock, immaterial yet symbolic of an apparent higher sense of purpose.
single-mindedly pushing the limits of speed, will and expectations.
to the point of irrationality, even insanity, some might say.
“why would he do that?”
“that was surprising, who would’ve thought?”
“where does he get the energy from?”
its always simpler to sink into the flow, no, the routine of set paths.
to run most days like clockwork.
but what is it that sets his apart?

maybe we just weren’t right.
but that’s a lie, that’s a lie.

there’s a war between my head and my heart
and i don’t know which side to take
you made your home inside the diary of my head
you know my heart was yours to break.

Termination

antibiotic pee.

dying.
it removes the consequence of living with consequence.
the possible outcomes of brash actions and impulsive decisions.
they end, simply and cleanly, in that singular moment of a final heartbeat.
how so many would live their lives differently if they knew tomorrow they’d draw their last breath.
words freely expressed, actions no longer inhibited.
to think, to plan, to conceal, to be responsible.
responsibility, more a part of life than a part of death.
if i knew i had till dawn, what would i do differently?
that’s not a fair question, for dying is nothing like living.

everyone needs God, in the end.
why not now?

we have but memories to remember you by.
and memories we shall hold onto.

when the night has been too lonely
and the road has been too long
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong.

Extinguished

recognized your self-preservation from a mile away.

so these are what goals are for.
as i sit here awaiting the summon of the white warrior.
suddenly it made sense.
the second time, catching fire in my hand.
it is everything that’s keeping my mind from falling apart.
to fixate, so fiercely, on one point in time and space.
the way a magnifying glass draws together separate, distraught rays of light and focuses them on a single spot of purpose.
such is the intensity, that it causes that purpose to burn up with passion, one that caves in to nothing.
it forges an unyielding will, otherwise left aesthetically functional yet hopelessly limp.
the only reason to keep going, to keep fighting.
this goal, whether a sensible one or not.

is it meant to be this difficult.
“but that’s kinda how life is, i guess.”

i’ve got a tight grip on reality but i can’t
let go of what’s in front of me here
i know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up
leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream.

Suspension

the night is too young for cessation.

it is a state to be unlocked.
for in our everyday, we’re made to use too much of one side.
clearly less valued, an imposed bias.
but to reside in it, when we reside in it.
taken to a place of lightness, of flight, of deep primal connection.
this place, with eyes closed, is far from what we’ve been made to know.
maybe this should go on pen and paper.

i looked at four.
a pang of fear.
shot right through my core, a chill.
all i remember is.
i don’t want this as.
my final abyss, but still.
pristine, no mistakes nor folly.
unscathed, without battle and war.
does it make this whole mess a little less silly.
does it make this more worth fighting for.

nothing comes from nothing
nothing ever could
so somewhere in my youth or childhood
i must have done something good.

High Hopes

never wandered too far from those roots.

what more can we hope for.
when do we cease to try.
if we’re all equally unsure.
how many more tears then, can we dry.

a cynical heart was once a heart that cared too much.

saw it all as if from above.
floating between two blurred landscapes.
two opposing entities co-existed in that same space.
in series or in parellel?

what’s next in this sequence?

i remember it now, it takes me back to when it all first started
but i’ve only got myself to blame for it and i accept it now
it’s time to let it go, go out and start again
but it’s not that easy.

Begin Again

another fresh start.
for the old one bordered on criminal liability.

let me backdate.

22 Sep 2013, 1107.
caffeine overdose twice in three days?
not cool, at all.

it is clearly insufficient to simply possess self-awareness, for it is the spirit of self-betterment that actually drives someone to take action and do something about it.

conscious overriding of influences past, especially when enmeshed in a vicious cycle.
a cycle so ingrained, an automatic response.
you can’t give what you’ve never had.

withholding information.
MO to avoid having to manage the impact of that information on others.
withholding leads to ambiguity leads to mistrust leads to a poor foundation on which to build anything else, which leads to more withholding.
and the cycle starts again.

“Love protects, Love believes the best in others and Love brings hope.”
– Brother Chadrick –

21 Apr 2014, 0019.
you only know love when you experience it.
but you know it that much more when it is no longer.

without reciprocity, one can only try for so long.

an instance of life’s ability to throw a curveball of reality, bringing down a house of bricks.
then again, it might’ve been a house of cards.

kickstart my heart to love You again.
to seek You with fervour and strength from within.

there are so many things we wish ideal.
but consider the possibility that “ideal” is a matter of perspective.

12 Jul 2014, 1901.
the depth of my sin shows the depth of His love.

“You’re rich in love and You’re slow to anger
Your name is great and Your heart is kind
For all Your goodness, I will keep on singing
Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find.”

“For when our hearts were far away, Your love went further still
Your love goes further still.”

18 Dec 2014, 0044.
“I gave this to you not to stress you out nor frustrate you, but to worship Me.
Let your pursuit come not from a place of lack, of self-deprecation, but a place of abundance and of good stewardship.”

27 May 2015, 0210.
what did she say? i didn’t check.
i was preoccupied with my…
what was it again? yes, the next meeting,
the next lesson,
the next breath.
did he mean this? he did.
i thought.
who answered what? why can’t they?
kaleidoscopic, i do see.
but do i really?
choose a side to justify.
i disagree… can’t i?

4 Aug 2015, 1916.
maybe i’m bipolar too.
that’s probably how i got into this monash mess in the first place.
not forgetting the John Valerio purchase.

i often stand grossly corrected when it comes to expectations of my fellow humans.
they often exceed them in great amounts.

what is left of honour when there are mouths to be fed?

now that that’s done, i shall unusually say.
out with the in, and old with the new.

and i want to speak these words
but i guess i’ll just bite my tongue
and accept “someday, somehow”
as the words that we’ll hang from.