Hollow...

the bleak sky with the only shining plate hanging lone...
below the city lights blink...
it's a night filled with cold fireflies...
a creak of stone will send these lights away...
where are the other celestial stars...
hanging without a fear of treats...
as no meteor could harm...
their blazing hot...

the wind is dead tonight...
everything is...
the vast space and empty skyboard running above our heads...
a sense of emptiness lingers...

Independent

The importance of being independent living under unconcerned local authority...
Resulting in the evidence and 'fruit of labour' through self - reliance...
The irony of such cases...
I find much of a laughable notion...

http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2012/9/19/nation/12049165&sec=nation

fundamentally...

What makes a chair?
the four legs...
Even from the start we have support...
the ground to hold us upright...
the soil which holds the roots that wriggle through its skin...

Yet we love the sky, the agility of being uprooted...
hanging in mid-air...
So, what if one day there is no gravity...
do we still like being up-floated for the rest of our lives?
The feeling is great, but how long do you think we would derive joy from it?
Joy for such a long time turns to the yearning of being back in place...
being back in the soil...
being on ground where the walking distance measure...
back to origin...
the familiar...

safety...
home...

Spring is here...

Spring is here...
so is the new life all together...
the dormant brain... kicked off all the frozen bits from my nervous system... the feeling of wanting to pen down something has returned, though not a very good timing especially now that there are barely time for me to complete my assignment...
I am short of papers too, mind the countless printing that had been done to suit my preference of printed words rather than reads in the electronic version...

Now that life is here,
but life with timeless days of facing the laptop weight upon me too...
well, good for flowers in domains and parks, yet makes slight difference on my life...
Longing for a stroll minus the howling wind that reminds me of winter during its unintentional slaps...

Truth...

Missing but not missing sometimes...
it was even hatred...
turmoils of emotions...
like the flushes of waves...
wooping up not just the instability...
where clarity turns murky...
and sedimentation applies...
layers and layers of saw dust in the dark...
clearly unclear...
purity alternates impurities...
what is there to hate...
when hatred is a mere storm...
sweeping pass an autumn sea red with blooming phytoplanktons...
of which you get a calm sea after that...
lulling ships to sleep on a starry night...

Suppression

It is like a bone caught between your esophagus...
an apple too big for your throat...
a glass sheet across your collar bone...
a stone in your pancreas...
a pain of unvomittable feelings...

that is my darkest secret...

I will keep it till the day of my death
I swear...

Trust

trust the birds to chirp in the spring...
The flowers to throw their scents sky high...
the sea waving luminous algae...
on a bright moon night...

the crooked chimney...
the puffs of smoke...
send cherie mints of what's in the pot brewing...
nope,
this is not a story about witches and wizards...
it is a simple non flashy scene of an old woman...
with holes in her shoes..
brewing thin soup with chewy turnip ends...
and rubbery fish fries...
a cat with soft brown padded paws making circles around the pouch waiting for its meagre share...

trust the fairy tales to weave fantasies...
trust the magic to spun escapes for normality...
filling life with awe and mystical wharves...
a way of trusting a lively life...
of the excitement it offers...