Two years hence
I stand and wonder,
At the whirlwind of pain
And another's blunder.
The time that was to heal
Checked itself, curbed it's advice,
Making it even harder
To forgive the vice.
One by one
They dropped, slowly,
The string only snapped once
And set all the pearls free.
Things around me stir
Slow, as a classic movie fight,
Broken, incoherent and disjoint
The color robbed by black & white.
Sedated I watch
As life speaks my thoughts,
There is no space to love
But enough to regret what's lost.
One by one
They spread out, scattered
I grappled to collect them
But it no longer mattered...
Monday, January 11, 2010
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Twenty 10
Several jingles and countless turkeys later, the joyful time of the year, once again, has come to an end.
An end that always hails new beginnings. A new year, a new decade, a new set of decisions and resolutions, some new friends made over the oh-so-many holiday drunken daze evenings, and of course- the happily hidden new (unwanted) pounds.
What am I going to do this year? I honestly have no idea. I would love to promise, and like to plan, but I have learnt in my -ahem- mere 20 years (because that is my age of course) that plans fail, and ships sail, and seasons come, and spontaneous is fun. In other words, I am chicken and I rather not take vows that I have no conviction of keeping. What is all the hype about it anyway.
So this year shall be dedicated to impulse. A year of unrehearsed, spur-of-the moment and extempore activities. Well....after I have made sure they go as planned, are agreeable to my liking, promise to be fun, follow a method, are documented on paper and are risk-free. Let's not get beyond ourselves - this would be my first year of being impulsive after all, and we don't want any accidents!
Alright-so I don't want to measure my year, and I am absolutely hopeless at being spontaneous! I reckon I will let Time take the reins and guide me through. It may turn out to be just another one - with hearts in chains, and unfinished games, or discoveries great, and circling new calendar dates. Or it may be remarkable...
Who knows? I try not to predict, but I very much welcome the new string of surprises.
An end that always hails new beginnings. A new year, a new decade, a new set of decisions and resolutions, some new friends made over the oh-so-many holiday drunken daze evenings, and of course- the happily hidden new (unwanted) pounds.
What am I going to do this year? I honestly have no idea. I would love to promise, and like to plan, but I have learnt in my -ahem- mere 20 years (because that is my age of course) that plans fail, and ships sail, and seasons come, and spontaneous is fun. In other words, I am chicken and I rather not take vows that I have no conviction of keeping. What is all the hype about it anyway.
So this year shall be dedicated to impulse. A year of unrehearsed, spur-of-the moment and extempore activities. Well....after I have made sure they go as planned, are agreeable to my liking, promise to be fun, follow a method, are documented on paper and are risk-free. Let's not get beyond ourselves - this would be my first year of being impulsive after all, and we don't want any accidents!
Alright-so I don't want to measure my year, and I am absolutely hopeless at being spontaneous! I reckon I will let Time take the reins and guide me through. It may turn out to be just another one - with hearts in chains, and unfinished games, or discoveries great, and circling new calendar dates. Or it may be remarkable...
Who knows? I try not to predict, but I very much welcome the new string of surprises.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)