graphs of my Universe
This corner is quiter,
Sitting on a placid lake,
Where still water
Hides a huge secret
Called love,
Is covered with a vast blanket
Called peace.
This corner is cozy,
Getting warmer and calmer,
Where a cat
Curls in a bed
Called dream,
Is lullabied with long slumber
Called hope.
How peaceful it is
Pampered with a life
Called humble.
Salaam.
—
Sufficiently served—
Each season presents a gift
That is grateful for.
—
It is easy to say “that I should love all”; yet it is not that easy as to finally love easily in life as it takes a long process, including to understand what love is, how to express the love, to whom I should express it, how much love I should share, etc before it becomes my commitment to love.
To me everyday is love day, no matter how much love I can feel flowing in my veins. Today several love wishes came from some friends. Good to share with more people.
💕
—-
Find your gifts,
Share them
With those you love
Around you.
You must have them
As no one is missed.
—
Thanks for all the gifts. 💝
Floating and flowing
As is. Stones and whirls push her
To the sea of love.
—
Rain is beautiful. Its drops slip between her hair, washing off sadness.
—
Rice is cooked to be rice. It’s the same name, yet not the same. Raw then cooked—
—
Not under the bed, it’s what she’s slept with since she was a cute baby.
—
What is love day?
A day when love is precious?
Only once a year?
How stingy human being is!
To express love only on that day—
Maybe they are afraid
Of saying love to
That they love dearly.
Maybe expression is
Embarrassing and too low
That they dump it cruelly.
Maybe love is considered a myth
Scientifically unproven
That it is skipped.
Maybe….
So much maybe.
I will still love
You
In silence
As
Love has made my heart pretty
Although rejection and ignorance
Once made it ugly.
All days are my love days.
To my
Beloved—
—
—
Remembrance about the beloved is river flowing to the sea.
This heart sings. Its notes witness through pitch and tempo. Genres of the soul—
—
All have right to live, yet some by greedily eating up others. Sigh.
—
What’s broken’s broken until connected again. Never be the same—
—
There’s always a home for a wanderer. Sweet home— Sweeter than sugar.
—
Keeping afloat, buoyant freely swaying playing the waves in the sky—
—
Tell the sun rising and setting that I’m ready anytime: morning, night and day— to present what’s best in my humble life.
—
Eyes blink to clean themselves, to not see things except Turkish evil eye.
—
Missing you is losing some pixels from mind; life becomes less vibrant.
—
Fly. See land from above. Wide, broad, one whole. Bird eye, one gift from heaven—
—
A journey starts. A journey ends. A route is colourful when observed—
—
One by one one makes dream come true one way or another. Best wishes.
—
Nothing is wasted; only goes through cycles and uses. Or don’t use.
—
It sways flexibly
In stormy days.
It grows calmly
In sunny days.
It roots perennially
In the meadow.
It sings;
It hums;
It mutes;
It sees;
It hears;
It touches;
It tastes;
It smells;
In silence
Perfectly.
It does well.
—
Laughter is the breeze caressing the hair waving to the morning sun.
—
A posting landed on my Instagram’s Home, it was Charlie Chaplin’s small details that are meaningful to me who love to laugh but often fail to make jokes. Most of my jokes are garing (crispy-dry, not funny; Bahasa Indonesia slang). 😁
Salaam.
Any day can be sweet with some setting on the tongue. Avoid chilli.
—
Silence sits among storm, won’t sit in a temple. She’s been far away happy, leaving two love birds tweeting noisily.
—
Some people don’t want happy ending for everyone but themselves and won’t stop communicating their hostility in any other way even when they know they have won the game. Oh! Perhaps they never know what victory is, they misunderstand it with justification.
Salaam…
Dear, day.
Do you know that I never stop waiting for you?
When my watch ticks a second,
My heart drips a note,
My pulse vibrates softly,
I know I am closer to you.
Dear, day.
Do you know that every part of you blesses me?
When morning breaks,
Noon flares,
Dusk fades to night,
I know the next you is waiting
For me.
Day oh day
Many I can’t understand,
Much I can’t decipher,
Little I can see,
Very few I can give
Yet I still hope
To meet you again.
Dear, day.
How I am blessed with family,
Gifted with friends,
Sufficed with this self,
You are still the one
Sung by this heart.
Sunday
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
All have been today
And never faded away.
I am blessed, day
With another you
In the best way.
And for you
I am grateful.
—
This life is a library
Keeping all collections,
Reference to public,
Exclusive to a lover,
One lover.
The
Beloved—
Read,
Beloved
Any scrolls
In this library.
Read,
Lover
The diaries
In the secret dungeon.
Read,
Beloved
With naked eyes, or
With any glasses on the shelves.
Read,
Lover
Through letters and numbers,
Shapes and colours.
Read,
Beloved
This library is open
As long as you are awake.
Read,
Lover
Before you sleep
When I’ll be reading you through.
—
About the photo
Free will? What is that? This breath is what you blow in to me to love you.
—
Realising more and more that her life is free of free will; she needs causes and reasons to do anything she does even for her brain to think about what things to think of— there is a bond invisible and invincible.
She surrenders to the bond. 💝
Happy weekend.
Salaam.
How many tastes can she experience in joy? 5 or 7?
—
Realising that the best taste is not any of those 5 or 7; the best taste is only 1: to love. 😊
Days of love be like…
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