Busy in wonder: Who Knows, Maybe I’ll See The Glass Half full…

Insight, philosophy, thoughts, Uncategorized

If only for myself I write these thoughts, I’ll write yet more, to satisfy my own yearn for expression, my own desire to be heard, to matter, to be greater than the some of my parts. I know that my mirror reflects a man greater than it’s shown, a man with potential untapped and projections uncapped. I see a man of honour, I see a man of trust and wisdom. A man who’s allowed experience to guide him but knowledge to shape him. I see him stand, I see him speak, compassionate and firm, a glaring light.

Yet still most days I wonder. Most days I’m aware of who I am, who I was and who I would like to be – and I wonder, had my previous self been a little more free, free to think free to read, free to learn, free to be; and he had stood before that mirror would he see what I now see? And if that be true, then had time been wasted? Maybe. Or maybe it’s the experience that allows context to be applied to new knowledge. Maybe it’s the pain, maybe it’s the memories, maybe it’s the thoughts that only I can access, in the darkest corners of pneuma that even allow such a reflection to be possible.

These moments lead me to think that my vision isn’t in-spite of experience, but tethered to memory of all ilk. What I mean is that hope is a result of understanding ones experience and supplementing that with knowledge. I’m saying that growth in and of itself is doomed vanity hunt. For I could educate myself one thousand times over, make all the right decisions on paper and still not be a better Asya.

Hope is my wonder and I’ll be forever busy…

YESTERDAY

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

β€˜Remember, remember’ no sooner forgotten,

The allure of wonder, yet another broken promise.

For it was written but it never went that way,

So we’re left with the promise of better days,

a tomorrow of love, a peaceful hereafter.

Hope turns to fear after another disaster; I carried your dreams before you could bare the burden,

I etched your memory in blood and soil.

I wished to clear the storms and seek new pastures,

but you watched as my hope just went away.

You watched me weep, oh if time could speak; you’d understand how lonely this life can be, how cold and damaged a broken heart becomes, when time fades and curtains close on better days. You will remember me and know that you should have loved me yesterday.

By Crook, By Design

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts

Split and destroy, divide and rule,

the ploy from a few to divide us all.

If it is the system that reaps rewards

and handles allocation; where nine tenths

have nothing because it’s captured and hoarded?

If the many must struggle for the gain of a few?

Then why not should one suggest, to take it from you?

Shame and pity for all of your flaws,

you have all you could want yet still want more.

β€˜Lies, damned lies and statistics

the story from the graph and the ground are so so different;

off with the platitudes,

time for solutions, the systems not broken – it’s working, we need a revolution.

Still Busy In Wonder: Chapter 18… Eden or Nihilism? Driven by hope

Insight, philosophy, thoughts, Uncategorized

My fundamental understanding of life is that everything that you love will eventually hurt you. You have 2 options, love nothing or embrace the suffering that love brings.

If nothing else this provides hope. Hope is knowing that life is a garden of daisies and thorns, but picking without fear anyway. That feeling of joy you feel as the baby opposite you smiles at you on the train, because you know that canvas is blank and if nothing else that canvas still has hope.

I’ve been figuring why it is that hope is important and I’ve come to only one conclusion. Hope is what allows us to wake up everyday, regardless of yesteryears troubles and tribulations. Regardless of where thought may take me, to the depths of complete nihilism or Eden better yet, hope is what allows me to strive, despite the fact that I know little of what awaits me.

In a way it’s exciting, the fear, the wonder and the chase for all that which is beautiful. I guess my life is still ultimately a mission of wonder, but it’s a sequence of hope, hope for and endless supply of better tomorrows.5AD8F51B-B825-44DD-B340-F4C393CB407F

Winter Days

Poem, Poetry, Uncategorized

I mostly remember you for the winter days,
The streets would freeze as you lit my soul,
If the heart could speak then I’d let you know.
You got me through the winter days.

The snow falls, the wind blows and
Our streets are filled with muddied slush.
Even when I was alone on my way to school,
I’d hear your voice say, β€˜don’t run’.

Don’t worry, I were always sure to walk,
Even when you left,
I never felt alone, I felt your step
and for all those journeys in my mind we would talk.

I mostly remember you for my winter days,
But I love you for the days I don’t remember.
That Tuesday morning, you remember right?
September 5th, 1995.

The day you became my goddess and you gave me life.
The day I stole your heart and you gave me mine,
you gave me the most precious gift… time.
Yet I must live without you every single day.

Reminiscing of the early years,
loving you for the latter.
Missing you hereafter,
But mostly…
mostly, I remember you for the winter days.

Her and her shadow

Insight, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

She saw life as an ocean,
a sea of pain.
1000 emotions yet all she felt was pain.
Drown in that sorrow, pain is abyss,
And all time is borrowed.
If so, endless hurt is the consequence of such loaned treasure, but like all things good, it can not last forever.
For her life was an ocean, a sea of pain; she wondered ‘if I drown in sorrow, in my sea of pain, will this abyss cease and set me free again’

Love Me While I’m Here

Poem, Poetry, Uncategorized

It can happen in an instant,

One moment you’re cruising,

The next your sinking.

 

Those final moments can be so fitting;

life and death, forever besides never,

if deaths eternal then what is living?

 

I remember the way they saw me,

If only they knew I could see them now,

I flutter in and out of consciousness as they scream and shout.

 

β€˜Fight it… fight it’

But I’m done fighting,

I’m fully resigned to leaving now.

 

They don’t love me really, not even now.

 

They worry for their loss as they forget about mine.

I’ll be gone forever but they’ll forget that in time.

They should have loved me while I was here;

 

Before the pink left my lips and my dreams disappeared,

before time took my mind, before age took my frame,

back when we had more time, more memories to make.

 

They never loved me while I was here.

But as I’m leaving they love me again?

Funny how things change.