Breathing in Breathing out The air is flowing Pumping freshness to the blood Pushing the recyclable out.
Time units are agreed. If passed, something is overdone. If missed, something is given up. If right on, moment is created.
Breath is my chosen time unit That I prudently save Between two points That I travel in.
How many will I take? I don’t even know Or how many have I taken? I’ve lost count.
It’s as accurate as your digital timepiece, Or as elegant as your mechanical winding. Our time is as precious, Yet we count with different tools.
Alas! Don’t ask me to walk faster Just because you run. Don’t tell me to stay put Just because you sit.
Life is short Yet expensive to lament If we don’t cross the path, It’s simply because of Simple word: Decision Because Fate sometimes doesn’t seem to fit. Whose decision? I don’t know. I’ll just breathe Until the sun moves in reverse.
It’s silence Filling the air, Expanding time that kills With infinity and mystery.
This strand has threaded millions of pearls of breathing taken one by one. This is also a ribbon that goes miles and miles scripted with memories loaded with emotions.
There is one last pearl and there is a period. Only time knows at which point—
Only flowers can fill the gap while waiting. They are food and garnish at the same time, Bride and groom, Prayer and curse, Bright and pale, Symbolised and clarity, Birth and death, Duality in one bouquet.
This lounge feels alive With the flower arrangement sitting at the corner, Silently Accompanying everyone Waiting to depart.
Life is forever, crossing one bridge to another. Alfatihah.
Colours will fade away At the front gate of A new season, Leaving beautiful memories To the garden.
No regret, Beloved If all are infused with love. No right, No wrong. Only lessons, And wisdom Imprinted—
Cycle is short; Life is forever. Each of the pearls in a strand is perfect when it’s loose. And so is a cycle in your life—
If I owe you one cycle, Beloved, I’ll come back With a bunch of fruits Ready to harvest. Ready to taste By your own senses—
See you again, Beloved. Choose what seed you want me to grow.
Flowers losing petals is a natural phase before plants are harvested for the fruits, the bulbs or other parts. Or, the flowers are the ones harvested to experience falling petals before they dry out naturally. It’s an end of one cycle at the same time a start of another.
That you feel Better, Smarter, Luckier, Richer, Prettier Than others
Might Not Be Self worth, Beloved.
Today’s discussion with some friends was about self worth. One head, one point of view—
My own understanding about self worth has evolved. Its turning point was in 2009 after a broken heart. World was ruined. Hope was (almost) zero. The worst was the way I was cut from the relationship; it made me feel of having no self worth. It was a time of emotionally shutting down like an un-charged computer; functional intellectually and physically but not emotionally— zombie in the making.
Dumbest young me!
I thought self worth was when I was do things better than others. Or, knowing more than others. Or, given a lot of things out of the blue as if winning lucky draws again and again. Gaining financial freedom and material things. Or feeling prettier than others (this one very seldom) at least prettier than Bob, my cat.
What is self worth in my system?
— self worth is about utilitarianism. Miriam Webster dictionary says utilitarianism is a doctrine that the useful is the good and that the determining consideration of right conductshould be the usefulness of its consequences; specifically a theory that the aim of action should be the largest possible balance of pleasure over pain or the greatest happiness of the greatest number.
If I’m good. So what? What have I done for my own self at the same time for others by being good, smart, lucky, financially independent?
If being good, smart, lucky, financially independent doesn’t bring benefits to others; where’s my worth? Is worth to self not enough, said someone. Not wrong; if the perspective of ‘self’ is about taking. In fact, life is always about giving and taking, or taking and giving.
“The best of people are those that bring most benefit to the rest of mankind,” said Islamic wisdom. It is equivalent with “urip iku urup” in Javanese wisdom.
Lo! No matter what people perceive about me as long as I do good to my own self and surrounding with good will, so be it.
The play-smart mind told me “Find what’s the cause.”
The relaxed mind of me replied “Alamak… It’s just a metal.”
The play-pretty mind said “But it is now less pretty!”
The play-wise mind said “Small one. I’m just being careless. Ok!”
The greedy mind said “That’s a good reason to buy new ones!”
From behind the door, the naive one said “Why so noisy? It doesn’t kill.”
And the core is just smiling, not even opening its eyes.
When talking to one’s own self, one should be ready to feel like crazy inside because one will suddenly realise even within one there are this one and that one, each of whom is craving for attention and needing entertainment.
Get entertained instead and they’ll be the most attractive acrobatics!
This silence is so eloquent,
But still needs clarification.
What did you just say?
That love is blind?
That love is dumb?
That love is numb?
What did you just say,
Silence weeps bitterly.
Love is candid.
Love is painful.
Love is funny.
Love is simple
As simple as none....
Don’t trick me with words
The beauty of silence shouts more loudly than what you’ve uttered.
Bluff with verbs, not adjectives.
Walking hand in hand is more beautiful than telling me beautiful.
Not to be a grammarian, Beloved.
Use the grammar well.
Someday you’ll receive an unwritten book of love with which thousands of poems are softly breathed to survive this pain.
Do you mind whispering an address, Beloved?
This silence is dramatically eloquent but indeed much better than Korean drama.
You are not red
You are not yellow
You are not blue
You are all gradationally spread from one point to another,
Led by Time.
Time makes all matter.
It becomes every milestone of journey.
It gives chances to clarify the direction of journey.
It sets free what should be said and what should be held back. Enjoy.
Space is a secondary supporting detail.
It doesn’t talk about the essence of journey.
It shows what’s been hoarded by a traveler.
It neglects what’s importance.
It helps slow down when break is needed
But at times it obscures the signs and messages. Beware!
Stay where you are, Beloved with no nerves
Knowing that space won’t corrupt you.
It is a lining of colours in different levels of degree that beautifies your existence.
Don’t quit, Beloved whichever the speed is
Knowing that time sharpens your perceptive.
It is what will be weighed and presented as a gift.
You see that, Beloved?
Oh, I know you’re tipsy!
A free verse about time and space between the Lover and the Beloved.
Bored to death! Thanks God it’s Monday tomorrow!
Singapore - Jan. 17, 2021 / 22:00
Tears are millions of pairs of legs
That find their way to escape pain
And hide slowly by the heat of the day.
Will it be recognised?
Their journeys belong to this body
That grows old on a curve of age,
Born and died along one same line.
Will it be remembered?
Don’t be afraid to let the teardrops out
And release them with no doubt.
They won’t leave you for nothing.
They ship your baggage
That might be excessive if you carry them home at the same time.
Let the teardrops out
And celebrate them with no regret.
They will wait right in front of your home door.
They prepare a house warming for you,
They make your bed for you to rest.
They unpack all your luggage
That might tire you if you do it yourself at the same time.
Tears are millions of pairs of legs
That run to the ocean where you’ll unite with the Beloved
And never be lost again....
Cherish the tears!
A free verse from a heart that cries everywhere with no reason….
I never want to hurt myself, I just didn’t know who you are. I got hurt by a cactus in a desert Who pricks little fingers, Who just want to touch this life softly, Not hurting, not taking anything away.
Wounded, I decided to blame stupidity: Why did I have to have to have to have to have to just touch cacti? I should have left that arid land long before I touched a prickly spirit.
A delayed regret is less important than a lesson learned but it always gives a story the most significant pivot.
Now I’ll just admire from here From where I stand With millions of prayers For a secret journey. Yet I know you are a ghost days and nights.
Someday when I pour down the rain, You’ll know. Love is as sweet as water in drought— Maybe— If it is not late....