We are all made of stars

"People they come together
People they fall apart
No one can stop us now
'Cause we are all made of stars"
- taken from the song "We are all made of stars" by Moby

Stardust. The true building blocks of life. Within the cloudy remains of supernovae, amidst the bright explosion that is the death of a star, is the creation of the complex elements that is the beginning of life.

Nuclear fusion, the explosive transmutation of elements. From hydrogen, the simplest of all elements, to helium. Each day, hydrogen atoms fuse together within the heart of stars like our sun. With their continual fusion also occurs the release of stored energy as well as stray protons, neutrons and electrons. Creation.

But for nuclear fusion to occur, for the creation of complex matter such as carbon and oxygen, an insane amount of energy is required. The breaking of bonds between nuclei and the fusion of those very same nuclei, calls for a lot of power to be put in.

There is only one place where one can find the creation of these elements occuring. In the stars. In the death of a star, in the explosive end that is a supernova is born an immense cloud of gas called a nebula. And in that cloud of nebula, lies the ingredients for life. Carbon, Oxygen, Helium, Silicon. All the elements that we know and see.

These floating clouds of dust in space, they merge together. They collapse upon each other and in time, form planets. They create new masses of plasma. New suns. New stars. And, in time...new life.

Every single cell in your body, every single atom in ur palm, every imaginable piece of you, was born in the death of a star. In all effects, you are nothing more than the walking corpse of a dead giant. You, are a piece of the stars. As is each and everyone around us.

People they come together
People they fall apart
No one can stop us now
'Cause we are all made of stars

What I've Become

In tears that trickle
Among sobs and laughter
Holding the well of years
Drowning in time


Bitter-sweet age long past
20 years in a flash
Days lost, moments remembered
Brawling with emotions forgot


Standing upon a stone
Finding strength upon a pillar
No man could live alone
Yet love would be a man's killer


Life seems so peaceful
For one who's torn asunder
A smile for every second
A frown under each laughter


It's in your eyes
Holes to the soul
Hiding behind emptiness
The sadness of the self


Under clouds of rain
Looking past the silvery edge
Reaching for the sun
But standing on solid ground


Lookin in your eyes
There I find the strength
The power to hold on
To wither with grace


Callous
That is what every man becomes
Destiny
That is what I am

Tagged....

The "tagged" game...

Rules Of The Game:

1. Post 5 weird / random stuff about yourself.
2. At the end, list the names of 5 people whom you want next to do this, and leave a comment " YOU ARE TAGGED" in their blog and tell them to read your blog for rules.

Normally I'd just ignore this litte game and get on with my life, but since it's a special request...I'll do it.

First random fact of the day:

I am made of star-dust. Yes. I am a being of the stars. I'd explain it all to you, but I'd rather leave that for another entry. Do ask if you really want to know what I mean by that.

Random fact number two:

I may be human, but I'm a gnome at heart. I like the strange, I feel small, I smile and talk more than I really need to, and when I talk, people don't always catch what I mean. It's all a jumble. Yes. I'm a gnome.

Third fact of the day:

I only look good when noone's looking at me. Or at least when I think nobody's looking. When you observe, that's when I transform. Turn into either
1. Someone quiet,
2. Someone nasty,
3. Someone weird or
4. Someone shy

So don't look at me.

Fourth thing you probably don't know:

I don't do well as a leader. I follow, I suggest, I ponder. But I can never lead. I just don't like deciding the fates of others. The burden is unsettling.

Fifth and foremost:

My thigh is itching right now. Some of that stardust must be falling off. Darn.

Now, For the second half of this entry. Who i expect to see doing this.
1. Qeenzie
2. Shady
3. Qis
4. Fadh
5. hmmmm...*shrugs* can't think up the fifth. Don't know that many bloggers i guess.

Diamonds

Where lies the price in a diamond. How do you judge its worth?

Is it in its weight? The heavier the diamond the better? Or in its color? Or perhaps within the perfection of its cut. How do you judge the value of a diamond?

Weight. Is a larger diamond worth more? Would 10 smaller diamonds of equal weight be of equal worth to a single significantly larger diamond? Is a 5 carat diamond worth twice the value of a 2.5 carat diamond?

Could the same be said of the value of a man? Would a bigger stronger larger man make for a better person? Could brawn be a significant determining factor of the value of a man?



Diamonds come in all shapes and sizes. Diamonds come in more than one color. Could the value of a diamond lie in the purity of its color? Is a diamond white and true the only one of great value?

What of colored fancies? Diamonds that come in colors as intense as the night. Diamonds bright and red as the early morning sky; or blue as the surface of the sea. Or one that is green as the leaves of the finest trees. Which would you say is worth more?



Perhaps the true value of a diamond is in the cut. A sculpted piece of stone holds within it more beauty and worth than a layer of earth. Take a piece of stone. Cut it into a fine design. Measure it. Bring symmetry and give life and rarity to a normal piece of stone. Create a masterpiece. Therein lies the worth of a diamond.

So, it takes the hand of a man to give a diamond its worth?

Every diamond is born of earth. Buried under layers of stone, created in the dark, away from the pryings eyes of man. And each, is as rare as it is beautiful. Man, has come to treasure that rarity above all.



It is the nature of every diamond to be unique. For within every diamond, lies inclusions that become a natural fingerprint that sets one diamond apart from another.

"Nature ensures that each diamond is as individual as the person who wears it." - http://www.adiamondisforever.com

Every diamond, is like a person.

How do you judge the value of a person?

An Empty Entry

Emptiness...

Purity in emptiness. In the blackness of space. The void of whiteness. What is there in emptiness?

Is the black hole empty? Are the skies empty? Is an empty jar empty? If to be empty is to have nothing inside, then an empty jar filled with air is not empty, is it? A black hole, whose heart is an intense dense mass, couldn't possibly be empty when it's so full of matter, could it?

In space. they say it is empty. But what if you take into account the fact that within that empty vastness, you consider the existence of rays of light? The microscopic rays of the sun that fleet through the vastness of space, invisible to our eyes. The rays of light that travel great distances to reach our eyes from the furthest of stars. Do they not occupy that empty space?

Indeed, when a place is said to be empty, it could mean that it is devoid of life. But is lack of life a good sign of emptiness? What of bacteria or plants? Or living organisms other than human or animals? If these are the only things existent on an island, is that island empty?

Perhaps it's merely a comparison. A jar is empty because it can still be filled. An island is empty because there's still space for people to live in. So emptiness is not absolute void. Void. It is nonexistent. For a total an absolute emptiness, is not humanly feasible. The mind could never comprehend such an idea. Emptiness

When looked in this light, emptiness is an impossibility. Perhaps, to find emptiness, one need only be incapable of seeing what is inside.

Take for example a dark room. If one is thrown inside a dark cell filled with furniture. If one did not move around to feel the furniture and one could not see anything beyond one's nose, one would consider the room empty. True?

A jar is empty because it holds nothing in it. You do not see the air in the jar, thus it is not there. In a translucent jar, the light that runs through the jar does not occupy that very space. Is it empty?

On the other hand, take an opaque jar and suck all the air out of it. Now, it is devoid of light and air. In that black darkness, is that emptiness? Is that empty space?

Lack of purpose? Lack of content? Occupiable space? What is empty to you?

Grief

Tender darkness creeps in

Empty and cold as the icy sea

Anchored by memories long gone

Reminiscent moments turned torturous hell



Lost is the self in the clouds

Searing in the heat of thunderous storms

There is no safety

No joy in flying on featherless wings



Convinced it could never be

I hide my bones in a leathery sheath

But I can't fly

Torn wings covered are still torn



Struck down from the heavens

I lost what i needed

I cannot be without you

All hell was broken loose when I lost you



The sun lost its shine

I've never been so cold or alone

Food has lost its flavor

I've never felt so disfigured



Guilt

Depression

Denial

Anger



Amid the numbness

Wrapped amidst the disorganization

Was immesurable silence

But reality demanded me to live



I was hopelessly lost

Locked in grief

Wandering the winds of change

Doomed to tears

We all experience it. Grievance. Loss. Emptiness. And the only form of escape, lies in braving through it.

When you feel lost, alone, crushed, there is none who can save you but yourself. Be strong. Know that pain, like joy, is but a passing phase. In time, it will pass. Grief for that which you no longer have, but live not for what you've lost. Live on, for each breath is a sign of what's to come. Every moment you live is a mark that there's more waiting for you up ahead. Live on through the tears and fears. Something new awaits you if you're willing to wait for it.

Black

In the moonlight
Amidst the waning sun
Lost in silence and in doubt
I am inferior


All hope is lost
All light is shed
Under the glow of the rising sun
I am dead


Days roll by
Under city lights and starshines
I waver and toss and turn
I am in stasis


Empty
So so empty
Could anything be so heartless?
Could that anything be me?


No
No No
NO NO NO


That could not be so
I am a part of you
Am I not?
A part of your whole


Hail to the light
Bequeath thy throne to me
For I am that which lives before you
I am that which exists after you


I cannot be inferior
I will not be inferior
My existence is not within your absence
I am greater than you


It is they
They who do not see me
Fooled by your trickery
You whose nature I take


Yes you
Your tunes, your colors
Your blinding shine
Your confusing smile


I shall eat it up
Swallow it all down
The lights, the sounds, all of it
All of it


I shall smite you down
I am your truth
Without me, there can be no you
I AM superior


I am not weak
Neither am i silent
You just don't see me
I am everywhere

When a See-saw does not tilt.

Effort. When one works towards a goal that one wishes to achieve. The work done, is called effort.

Be it from studying for a school exam, to working for money and food, to a simple hour or two spent playing a game. We're constantly putting effort into anything and everything that we wish to achieve.

Every effort put in is expected to have a result. As is the law of nature and physics, every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

But what happens when the effort put in does not come to par with the expected output? What if the amount of pressure applied on one side of a see-saw is not enough to move the see-saw and tilt it the other way around? Can you say that there is any pressure applied? When all effort put in to a single objective fails to bring about any progress, do you say that no effort has been put in?

Mankind is always striving towards self-betterment and improvement. When effort is put in, then there has to be change. When work is done, it has to be purposeful. To fulfill a certain need or another. When a person does something, he is bound to expect it to result in a certain level of change.

When he walks, he expects to get somewhere, when he talks, he expects somebody to hear, and when he cries, he expects somebody to care. It is the nature of man to expect results.

Is work done without purpose and change a wasted effort? Is digging the sand upon the beach a waste of time? When all one wishes to do is bathe in sea water, is it fine for one to waste his effort digging in the sand? And if you cannot reach the sea under the sand, did your effort all go to waste? Is there no achievement in it?

When a single droplet of water falls from the heavens, none would take notice. But when it falls by the dozens, people would see and hear it and call it rain. Such is the case for effort. A single drop makes not much a difference. Yet when a torrent is unleashed, then it becomes a storm.

So does every tiny bit of effort count?

Is there anything you can comprehend in this?

There are no words for it,
It exists within every moment.
With the passing of every breath,
Lost amidst thought.

The heart sees what the mind does not,
The heart knows more than every thought.
The heart speaks not what it wants,
It relinquishes only what it needs.

The mind screams often aloud,
Talking often of what it knows not.
A constant ramble of analytical thought,
It can never fully understand all.

Throw away all that you know,
Comprehend not all that you see.
When there is nothing around that you understand,
It is then that you'll learn all that you can.

What Moves the World

Would that I could see the will that moves the world. Would that it wasn't hidden, what would I see?

The constant flow of energy, the spinning of the fan, the blowing of the wind, the constant humming in the air. Would that I could see the will that dictates the world. What would I see?

Would that I understood the will that commands the land. That I may realise the nature of that which moves the earth and the air. The very same force that has given to me my freedom to defy Its will.

With each breath I take, with each step that I make with the pretence of true and absolute freedom. When in truth, I am bound to Its will. For in truth, His will does present itself within my heart. His will, I've learnt, lies deep within my soul. Coursing through me as it does through everything else.

Be it a rock that lays still upon the floor, or a tree rooted deep in earth, or a mindless dog lapping and drooling away. His will, flows through all. But what sets me apart from that rock or that dog, what sets you apart from anything else in this world, is choice. Such is His will upon us.

That we may be presented with His will, and yet be gifted with a chance to do with it as we will. That is our gift, and our curse.

Three Questions...

Question 1:
Do you believe in God?

Question 2:
Why do you believe or disbelieve in God?

Question 3:
What have you done as proof of your belief or disbelief in His existence?

THINK.

Plight

from whence my mind began to crumble
lost and torn complete asunder
from thence was born a spark of fire
furiously burnt by flames of desire


parched throat screaming for relief
safety from this heavy mental fatigue
finding yet neither within the searching
assailing the self with weight from all the seeking


hence is found a lesson in life
that death is reprieve from all that i fight
as long as breath still doth come
battle i shall with rage so strong


strength i find from angels of earth
borne to me upon wings of love
and thus i live imprisoned
loving those for whom is deserved


cursed be my heart
lost be my soul
unheard of is my plight
an angel flying the devil's flight

Under the covers of anonymity

It is easy to hide behind anonymity. To lurk behind the shadows of obscurity. We all do it sometime. Living in a world of strangers just makes it that much easier.

How much do you know of that person sitting next to you in that bus every morning? How well do you know your neighbours? How well do you know your friends? What is their favourite colors? Or their favourite food? What goes through their minds? How much of them do you know?

It is surprising just how little of society is really close to us. Same goes with how much of ourselves is truly known and understood by those who are close to us.

A mother may have spent years with a child yet she may never fully understand what goes on in his head. A father may have raised his child since he's but a babe, yet that very same father who's been through thick and thin with his son may never be able to fully predict his son's reactions to certain events in his life, nor understand why his son does some of the things he does.

People claim to know you inside out. People tell you they understand how you feel. They assure you that they've been through what you are now going through. They KNOW you. How much of this is true? How many of these people really know you?

No matter how close you are to another person, you can hardly understand or even begin to comprehend the intricate complexities of him/her.

When it all boils down to it, they only know a small part of you. The rest of you; the REAL you remains hidden behind obscurity. Cloaked in the mist of the mind. Something that is insubstantial.

Most of what we think and feel remains anonymous. Unknown. And, these are what makes us who we are. Our thoughts and emotions. The most vital components of our being. Also the most well hidden.

How many people out there can truly understand your thoughts and emotions? How many of them see what you see?

Who is to know? For we are all hidden under the mist of the self. Caught up in the world that is the mind. Free to think, feel and know anything and everything without being judged. All under the covers of anonymity. Only under the covers of anonymity.

My love for you

Burn my soul in the cold
Revel in the flames of my bones
Do as you wish when you will
My soul is forever yours to kill


Twist my spine and make it crack
Turn my skin to but dusty speck
Hollow out my rotting mind
My self is yours to take and grind


Break my fingers and my toes
Relish the soft cracking of my woes
Toy with me as you would an ant
My heart is yours to break and bend


Spew acid upon my face
Scald me forever in disgrace
Do as you wish and like
I will not hide behind my pride


Take what you will of all that's mine
I care not of what you take
I count not what I give
All that I see, is what you've given me.


Pain...
Pleasure...
Hatred...
Love...


What I see now, is nothing
For the day I lost you
Was the day I lost my sight
I am blind. Have always been...

A thought to share upon a day of despair

If given but a moment to spare, with only a breath to breath and only seconds to live, what would you're dying thoughts be?

Have you given a thought to that?

What would your last wish with your final dying breath be?

Another second to live? A friend to see? A sin to be forgiven? Or escape from death itself?

Would fear be all you feel at the brink of darkness? Or would peace be what is reflected in your eyes as life ebbs away?

Ah. To die. The dead no longer ponder, for all that they need to think of, to question, and to answer, has been fulfilled at the brink of death. In the end, the day you die shall be the day that you lived to the fullest.

Longest Day Of Your Life?

Is your day dragging on? Does today feel like it's the longest day of your life? Well, that's probably because today is the longest day. Blame the Moon – its gravitational effect on our planet creates tidal "bulges", which slowly transfer momentum from the Earth's rotation to the Moon's orbit. As a result, the Earth's rotation is slowing at a rate of around 0.02 seconds per century – and each day is fractionally longer than the day before. Therefore, the longest day on Earth is always today! - Quoted from www.guinnessworldrecords.com

Makes you wonder. How long will it be before the earth's rotation is so slow it can no longer drag the moon along it's orbit but instead, gets pulled backwards on reverse spin. Think about it...

And so, the sun shall trace its path back upon the sky, rising from whence it had set.

Insane? Or free?

Many, no doubt, are well disposed, but sluggish by constitution and by habit, and they cannot conceive of a man who is actuated by higher motives than they are. Accordingly they pronounce this man insane, for they know that they could never act as he does, as long as they are themselves. - Henry David Thoreau

Insanity. The first and foremost step towards true and absolute freedom. The beginning or self-realisation and happiness.

We all feel caged and depressed every so often. Helplessly lost and tossed back and forth, trapped in our world of rules and morality. Caught amidst laws and rituals enforced upon ourselves by the mind. Tied down by sanity.

Indeed, insanity is viewed by most as foolishness. Crazy is the man who would jump off the edge of a cliff believing that he could fly. No man of his sound mind would endanger himself upon a precarious ledge for the sake of fun. No sane man would give up all he has, believing that material wealth is totally unnecessary.

And yet, the irony of it is still there. How many times in one day, have you committed an act that you would deem stupid or insane?

To suddenly burst to tears over something that means nothing to most other people. To believe in that which is unseen and unproven to be true. To hear voices in your head, or talk to yourself when nobody is around. To see ghosts and specters in the night. All these, signs of sanity slipping away.

Yet, we all experience these things once in awhile. Unexplained acts with absolutely no basis of logic or plausible reasoning. Then again, what is the basis of logic or plausible reasoning?

What is the basis and foundations of sanity itself? How do you judge sanity? If each and every one of us is unique and different, then who among us is the most sane? If the mind is moulded by the environment, then what environment is right for it? Who among us is sound of mind? Who do we compare to for this?

Indeed, we attempt to keep our sanity by judging our minds based off an image of sanity that we ourselves construct.

So if my sanity strays beyond your norm, who between us, is insane?

Am I insane, or are you the one who's nuts? Hmmm...You be the judge my friend. You be the judge.

Yet, the one who is perhaps most sane among us are the insane. For they, among us, are most free and easy. Perhaps their happiness goes beyond our understanding. And their minds stray further from the norm than we could ever hope to achieve. Wild abandonment. True freedom. While we are trapped upon the solid earth of our "sanity", they fly free upon the skies of the mind that extends out to a vastness we could never possibly comprehend.

Indeed, the freedom that so many of us seek, lies out there, beyond our reach. Away within the wild limbo of the mind. Somewhere in the deep reaches that is hidden behind insanity. Only a nutcase would think of looking for it there. Only a nutcase...

Joy is a fleeting emotion. It passes us by swift as the winds of fate. With the passage of time, it will fade along with the dim silence of each passing daybreak.

When it is all but gone, that is when the heart begins to weep. When all has come to pass and all that's left is silence. That is when the heart is driven to tears. The eyes begin to well, a mirror to its silent cries of pain. Silent cries of pain. That is a mark of peace.

Within sadness, lay the path to peace. Loss, is the only way to achive emptiness. A man who chases after joy, is nothing more than a blind beggar.

Can you accept this?





Neither can I.

Blood of a warrior

Within my blood that does now flow
Amid the cluttered reddish glow
Lay written the code of life
A way to live, to learn and fight

Bound by oath sworn in act
I will regain what I now lack
Swimming amidst swift current beats
I twist and twirl on feet so fleet

My quest unerring leads to perfection
To stray from my path is out of question
For the way's been marked by royal blood
With will as resolute as stone is hard

Virtues of honor and passion laved
Mortal wounds endlessly I brave
Precious wine spilled on baked earth
An essential ritual to my soul's rebirth

Immaterial quill of unwavering faith
I dip you in essence that I now bathe
Strengthen yourself within my hand
That I may draw upon the land

For peace
For honor
For soul and blood
Blessed be my soul

Dear Dear Mr Scientist...

Oh Mr Scientist. Do you believe in God?

__

You don't say. So why are we here Mr Scientist? Is there a purpose or reason behind our existence?

__

Ummm...Evolution? So Mr Scientist, what did we evolve from?

__

Oh okay. So you really do believe that to be the case Mr Scientist? But then, you mean to say we came from worms. That is a sad truth indeed, isn't it, Mr Scientist?

__

So where did these worms come from then? I mean, where did life first come from?

__

You don't mean to say that life just popped out of thin air, right? Intelligence and conscience couldn't have just appeared through some random chance, right?

__

But Mr Scientist, do you think that everything around us came to be, by chance? It seems to me Mr Scientist, that you would rather believe in chance and random possibilities than a Being with absolute knowledge, control and power over His creations. Am I right to say so?

__

Hmmm...So that would be the most logical assumption to be made, now wouldn't it?

__

I've always wondered about this, where and how do you think all creation began Mr Scientist?

__

The Big Bang theory, it states that all things in the universe began cramped together in a small dot, am I right?

__

Well, regardless of whether or not it is true, do you agree that it is easier to comprehend the fact that all matter in the universe had existed without a beginning or any point of creation?

__

That being as it is, would that not make it just as simple to say that there is afterall, a possibility that there exists a Being beyond the reaches of time and fate? Would you agree to that?

__

You have a point there, Mr Scientist. We would need some proof or basis by which to judge the truth of such a claim, now wouldn't we.

__

So tell Mr Scientist, would it be true for me to assume that most events that take place now, appear through chance and probabilities. True?

__

Thus, it wouldn't be wrong for me to say that, you believe in chance. Correct?

__

Number crunching, percentages, likely outcomes and such. They are all probabilities. Would I be wrong to say such, Mr Scientist?

__

If so, I'd think that you believe chance and probability rules over all things. If that is the case, then I see that chance is what you've proposed to rule over all things. Would you disagree with that, Mr Scientist?

__

I thought so. Tell me Mr Scientist, facts are based on deduction, aren't they?

__

Well, don't you also agree Mr Scientist, that religion bases most of its assumptions on deductions?

__

Hmmm... You truly believe so Mr Scientist? How much of it is true, in your point of view?

__

In your own words Mr Scientist, how much of religion is in the least bit believable in your eyes?

__

I suppose each of us has his own oppinions, eh Mr Scientist? May our search for truth bring us closer to what we seek Mr Scientist. May it bring us closer to what we seek.

:-D

A weapon

A weapon need not be sharp to kill
Neither need it be made of steel
A clear path could be swathed
By rage of axe or wrath of club

But neither need weapon be made to kill
Murder is power turned to ill
Its power to devour turned sour
Drowned in blood, its name twisted

A sword by name is just a weapon
An axe by word an instrument
The callous hands that wield the club
Are the true sources of destruction wrought

Myriad wonders can be built
Torn asunder if so is willed
For the weapon is naught without a wielder
And its commands are those given by the holder

Indeed a weapon is a gift
Laved in power with which to sieve
To draw upon the essence around
To find survival where none could be found

Be aware
The greatest weapon is not physical
It is not one that causes great harm
Rather it's the one that endures.

Science. The art of logic.

Science. It is the logical, methodical understanding of the world. To identify "things". Learn of causes and effects. Why and how things happen. To observe.

Logical. That is science.

But logic. What is logic? The answer: It is a system. A vast interconnected chain of interdependent courses of thought and reasoning.A system that in its essence, is greatly dependent on belief.

What goes up must come down. We've all heard this phrase before. And I'm sure most of you out there are aware of the story of how Isaac Newton discovered gravity.

An apple falls on his head and Newton wondered why this is so. He figured there has to be an invisible force of sorts that attracted the apple to the ground. He named it Gravity.

The logic implied by this story, is that gravity has to exist. The reasoning behind it is the fact that we are all obviously caught within this very web of invisible force.

How do we know? Because we can never set our feet off the ground and remain afloat. There is always this invisible tug that pulls us to the ground.

The logic within this story plays out quite nicely, don't you think? It is believable. It conforms to reality. Science conforms to reality. Logic conforms to reality. Reason. The faculty that gives birth to thought. It is a gift. A power of mind that appears to be humanity's greatest tool.

Reason includes not only our capacity for logical inference, but also our ability to conduct inquiry, to solve problems, to evaluate, to criticize, to deliberate about how we should act, and to reach an understanding of ourselves, other people, and the world - Lakoff and Johnson

Our power of reasoning draws itself out of logic. It is derived from belief of what is real, and what isn't. I repeat. It draws itself out of logic. Nonsensical as it may seem, such is the case. So where does this logic and power of reasoning that scientists utilise develop its foundations? Where does the circle begin?

Beginning. The beginning of logic and reason. Where is it? Science explains this through one word. Observation. Is this true?

death's coming

Had I been ready for death,I would be dead now.

A little something I drew up :D

The power of love

Lost is the hope
Gone is the love
Care not whispered
Bereft of concern


Caught in a breeze
A soul released
A dog unchained
By a world of pain


He feels no longer
Pain does not ponder
Heartless, unfeeling
Detached, emotions of spring


A raven in flight over a field of corpses
Saved from the claws of love's devices
Hatred his boon, anger brings glee
Sadistic madness, a bitter shade of green


His heart empty, a dark shade of blue
His mind twisted by a devil's tool
Gone is the man so young and free
His soul now blackened by the devil's plea


Look upon now what the world has wrought
Born once an infant, now a shroud
Look and see the power of love
And know that it's changed the man above


It showed to him, what others failed to see
Lessons unlearnt by you and me
For in this world of many desires
The desire for love remains the strongest


With each day that love does leave us
It brings with it a piece of our hearts
Piece by piece, day by day
The thoughts of the sane shall slip away


Mourn now oh creature of earth
Yearn for love from the one above
Seek protection from the ties of man
Or lose your soul within this land

Intelligence...(Shade...u had betta read this...lol)

The ability to learn or understand. To deal with new situations and manipulate one's environment. to reason. Is intelligence what makes us human? Is it what sets us apart from animals? Do animals have intelligence?

It is a recurring debate that has seen no end. Crows. They've been attributed with intelligence that almost approaches ours. Dolphins. They sometimes appear to understand us better than we do them. Dogs. They can be taught to do many things. Are all these things significant proof of their intelligence? Or are they just mechanical responses instilled in these animals?

We've all grown comfortable with attributing intelligence to people. Some of us may appear to have more of it than others (Einstein is an example of such a genius). Each time we cough up a solution to a problem or manifest thought riddled with abstract ideals and complexities, we conjure an image of intelligence.

Image. Perhaps that is all there is to it. An image.

It is obvious that intelligence is not something that can be clearly seen or observed. How could one know the inner workings of the mind simply by looking at the exterior responses of the body? Could you imagine what goes through the mind of a simple creature such as a cat? What about a dog? Let's make it simpler still. How about a person just passing you by on the train?

The complexities of our own minds is difficult to understand and explain, let alone the minds of others. Each of us thinks differently. Our minds all work of their own accord, taking different paths of thought; Making connections between similarities observed like forming pictures. Similar to the way we form constellations upon the night sky.

With so many different paths of thought, how do you grade intelligence? Is academics enough? What about wisdom, or street smarts? Emotional intelligence, is that even a form of intelligence?

* * * ~ * * *



Inspiration. That is where intelligence comes from. To suddenly realise and see how the environment works. To suddenly notice that the tides come and go with the rising of the sun and moon. To figure out the complex workings of a machine in numbers and scientifical clauses.

The spark of genius to come across radical ideas is what escalates our level of intelligence. It is what makes us more than animals.

But where do our ideas come from? Did we make them? Or were they "Divine Inspirations"? Is that intelligence? Divine Inspiration?

What do you think?

Could, Would and Should

What could, what would and what should you do?

We lead a life-journey full of choices, walking upon a road riddled with many off-shoots. When faced with a predicament, we make decisions.

There are more ways than one to skin a cat. Every problem has more than one answer. Likewise there are many possible reactions to any given situation. Reactions based on instincts.

There's always something you could do, something you should do and something you would do. At times the threee different categories have a similar answer, more often than not, they don't.

What you could do: This includes practically all possible manners of handling a situation. It provides an infinite choice, unrestricted by moral dilemma or desirable consequences. It's a primary purpose of man to seek a solution to every problem. As long as it solves the current problem at hand, then it's a solution.

Our range of choices is almost unlimited. Say you are about to go to school. You could take a bus or cab, drive, even choose not to go to school. All these are things you could do. The prime aspect of the human mind that conjures up this list of possibilites, is the calculative instinct. The instinct to analyze, compare and find the simplest and most direct answer to a predicament. The simplest answer.

Now we come to the word should. Should. It is a very strong word. What you have to do.

There are things in this world that society deems acceptable. That which is accepted as morality. Some of us share these values, others have slight variations in their moral compasses. Normally, it is these very forces that propagate us toward a set course of actions. The motivation towards this is what I'd call the spiritual instinct. The instinct that leads us to believe in a higher state of mind. The need for a greater purpose in life or to lead a better life, or perhaps even believing in a higher power. Abstract concepts.

The abstract concepts and self-imposed belief cages the range of choices to be made and draws the person to behave within his own moral boundaries. Law. That is a fine example of spiritual instinct for all of us. The law states that it is illegal to murder. It is harmful to the society, and as such the spiritual instinct would agree. The understanding that what one does, does not only affect oneself, but the society at large. It is something quite widely understood. A value shared by most of the society.

Then there is the "would do's". This involves what actions you are most likely to take in any given situation. It is a choice greatly affected by one's own sense of justice, morality and self-preservation. It is one driven by our most primal instinct. To protect the self, as well as ones closest to us. The family. Everything we do, be it work or play, has a purpose. No matter how self-less any of our actions may seem, it usually leads to a point where what we've done, is for our own good.

For example, we take the average working father. He works to feed the family, to keep the house warm and the family happy. What would drive a man to do such? The need to protect his family of course. But behind that, is the underlying fact that without them, he would have little else. And without them, he would be a lonely man. That is the primal instinct at work.

Everytime you face a huge dilemma, you take the time to run through all your choices one by one. Do you do what you should, what you would, or what you could?

We are all driven by circumstance, steered by choice. Be it primal instinct, spiritual or calculative, we all make choices. How do you choose?

Reality and Consciousness

Reality. Could it exist without a consciousness?

Consciousness. According to the english dictionary, it is "the quality or state of being aware, especially of something within oneself." Is that all there is to it? Awareeness?

Thought. Emotion. Coscience. Instinct. Could all these things be experienced without consciousness? Could you possibly live without a consciousness?

Our awareness gives reality to all. What we perceive, is the only thing that exists to us. Even dreams would become real to the dreamer who is in them. We make our surroundings. We make our world.

Thus, consciousness brings reality, change and life. Every single thing you say or do, all that you hear and see, anything that you can reason with and understand. That is all that is real to you.

Consciousness is the driving force of change and movement within us. It gives the strength to decide, assess and to pass judgement as well as law. It is the power with which we mould and construct the world we live in.

Yet, the consciousness is something that is very poorly defined. It is one thing to try and identify our consciousness, but it is another to attempt to gauge it. It is like the sea. It is clearly seen and its presence widely known, yet its depth and volume far exceeds the capacity of the human language to explain. (note: by the "human language" I'm referring to the written and spoken languages of the human race) It is our power to control; And it is also what constrains us.

How? Simple. What is the underlying factor that controls the human consciousness? What is it that filters and puts order and logic into what we see and perceive with our consciousness?

Belief. That is what governs our consciousness and thus reality. Our reality. Knowing all this, I ask again, could reality exist without a consciousness? Without our consciousness?

Life

As I trudge across the chasm upon this bridge of knives, I look ahead to the end that I may never reach.

May this life have a fruitful end.

Sembahyanglah Wahai Insan

Five times a day, up to ten minutes each time, bowing at least twice and going down on hands and knees at least four times everytime.

Prayers. The responsibility of a muslim to uphold. Some of us uphold it with devout zeal, others simply shrug it off non-chalantly.

But why do people do it? Why does a muslim drop on his hands and knees to worship a God that he cannot see? What is he doing it for?

A question for all those muslims out there. Why do you do it?

Tradition. Being raised from a very young age as a muslim plays an important role in this. They pray the way that they were taught to. The same way their ancesters were taught to do it. The prayer, has become almost like a cultural practice.

Habit. Some start at such a young age, that the prayer becomes an instinctual habit. Practiced for so long it becomes ingrained in their very lifestyle. Thus they will hardly ever forget it. It is a part of who they are.

A cry for help. When hardship bears its weight down, leaving no place for a muslim turn to, he calls out to God. He sends out a plea to God. He asks for aid and respite , begging protection and guidance in his time of need.

Praising his Lord. Indeed this is the most basic of objectives of the prayer: Sending praises to God Almighty. From the very first verse we recite, Allahu Akbar, down till the very end. Thus the muslim prays to praise.

Begging for forgiveness. Sin. It accompanies us with every step we take, each corner we turn, each day that passes. This may be another function of our prayers to the Creator. Asking to be pardoned from our mistakes and transgressions. Hopefully, He would polish our tarnished souls and brighten our dulled spirits; Washing away our sins through our prayers to Him, God Almighty.

Gratitude. Giving thanks. Showing remembrance for the kindness and blessings that He showers us each and every day. There are those who commit prayers to Him just to acknowledge this very fact to give thanks.

The reasons are many, but one thing remains clear and concise. The prayer, is commitment from God's creations, dedicated to Him. It is when the muslim seeks council with Him. It is when we speak to Him. It is when we praise and remember Him.

So why do YOU pray?

Lost Soul

In Our Hands

The only thing that is pure and true
Is not tied by the sands of time
It is not limited, not caught by the earth

We on the other hand, are caged
Tied to the land with no place to go
Caged by the very things we need the most

Wings we may grow to leave the earth
But never will we find the strength to cross the sky above
For we are trapped by the things we love

How far can we venture before reaching the end?
How far can we go before it sinks in?
That we are powerless, that we are weak

Would that the stars were in our reach, and the moon but a gem
Had we been able to pluck them from the skies
Would their light disappear in the hands of man?

Be this cage of earth and air for their safety?
Or is it protection for man?
What would it be like without the limits of mortality?

Gifted we are with meakness
Mayhap there's power within shortcomings
Look around our prison for His teachings

Had we heard the whispers of the mighty sea
Or the lessons taught by the endless sky
Purity may be found, out of our reach, out of our time

How would you wish to die?

Lying in wait as it drew closer
Seconds turn to minutes, minutes to hours
Pain, tension, loneliness. All of them here
His time has passed him by


They come one after another
Friends, family, strangers, all by his side
Wallowing in pity and sadness
All teary-eyed for him


None could possibly know how he felt now
None could possibly imagine
Tumultuous aches and pangs wrecking his soul
Nobody knew


What is he thinking?
He couldn't tell them
Not even if he wanted to
No matter how much he needed to


Never had he felt as lonely as he does now
How could that be?
They're all here with him
They're here to see him


To see him leave
That must be why they're here
Isn't it?
Perhaps this was the source


The more he thought, the lonelier he felt
The light in his eyes faltered
He is ebbing away
He knows. They know too


He lays in wait
These machines refuse to let him go
They refuse to let him go
Are they really saving him?


Would that they know
would that they see
The icy cold pain
The incarcerating darkness that accompanied him


Was this the end that he had so wanted?
Upon a bed, surrounded by beeping machinations?
Hanging upon a wire that slowly cut through him
Dying slowly. Forced to live by pump and tube


Had he the choice to choose
Had he the strength to decide
Is this how he would want it?
To die slowly upon a grinding wheel?


How would you want to leave? How long would you wish to suffer? How long would you wish to show them how much you suffered? Would you wish anyone to see? I'm sorry. I chose not to see. I chose not to see.

Allahu Akbar...Allahu Akbar

The shaking earth sends people running for the hills. Cries of "tsunami" ring in the air- as much as in the minds of people. The smell of fear hangs clear. Will it happen again?

There are those who head for the hills. Then again, there are those who don't. They all tremble. Shivering in cold fear of murky waters.

Fear the angry earth. Fear the roiling seas. The turmoil it threatens to unleash. Can you perceive it?

When it strikes, That's when they remember Him. When the earth rumbles. That's when they call out His name. Is it the fear that invokes their thoughts of Him?

Allahu akbar. Allahu Akbar indeed.

Is this what it takes to bring them closer to God? Is this what it takes to bring us closer to God? Then perhaps it is a blessing.

Will we wake up after being slapped in the face? Will we snap out of our daydreams after being drenched?

Yet, we've been spared. Or have we? To survive a disaster and to remember it well. Though we may have been spared the full force of both the tsunami and the quake, we are the witnesses of mother nature's wrath incarnate.

So what will you do? What will you do when the watery silence comes for you?

Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar

An Angel Among Us

When asked of what a knight is, what would your answer be? How would you describe a worthy knight?

The knight, is not simply a man who fights. He is not merely a combat brute. Neither is he simply a warrior of the church or an officer of one organisation or another. No. These are not the essence of the knight that makes him a great man. A true knight, is a virtuous hero who embodies perfection. His combat prowess, compassion and noble stature elevates him from being simply a soldier, to being a holy warrior.That is what sets him apart from a normal warrior.

Courage . Mercy . Honor . Hope . Justice

Nobility . Generosity . Courtesy . Loyalty . Strength

Humility . Kindness . Wisdom . Love . Faith

These are all but some of the virtues that the knight may choose to uphold. He, is an avatar amongst men. Meant to be looked upon with great honor and respect.

An honor-bound warrior and a holder of ideals. He lives for his ideals, be these for the good of self, country or mankind.

The knight is a man willing to endanger self and die for the sake of his ideals. He will fight till the end to uphold his virtues. Defend the week. Uphold justice. Aid those in need. Submissive to his lord. He is an angel amongst men.

Is there such a man amongst us now?

The Druid - #1

The sounds of the wild assailed the sharp pointed ears of the young elf as he stood at the center of the clearing. He held a long gnarled wooden club slung across his back. His dark green tunic clung tight to his pale porcelain skin, his pale green cloak ruffled in the calm cool breeze. His hood hung over his head, covering his handsome features in shadows.

A ruffle in the bushes a dozen feet behind him caught the elf's attention. He turned around in time to see a large wolf walk out into the clearing. He tapped the staff on the grassy floor thrice, calling his faithful companion to his side. "A beautiful day it is my friend." The elf reached down and patted the soft gray fur of the wolf fondly as his eyes looked up to the clear blue sky above him. The sun shone bright and proud up in the sky, letting down rays of warmth and bringing light upon the world.

The wolf brought his muzzle up and sniffed the air. A low growl escaped its throat. "Intruders." Came the understanding exclamation of the elf. The two melted into the trees and ran through the forest, silent as shadows of the boughs above them.

The barking of dogs grew louder as the elf silently shuffled through the trees and approached the men who had intruded into his woodland grove. He drew ever closer, and the barking of the dogs grew louder with every step that he took. The dogs had caught his scent. The elf climbed up a tree, his arms and feet working with unison and skill honed by years of practice. a quarter of the way up the huge birch tree, the elf stopped his ascend upwards and started to swing from tree to tree. His arms and feet pumped with energy as he swung through the trees apelike and silent as the resident monkeys of the woodlands. He stopped right above the invading men, who unknowingly continued to swathe a way through his woods, cutting at small bushes and stomping on the grasses without a care for the woodland lives.

The handsome elven studied the men closely. Longswords hung on belts and sturdy leather jerkins protected the men from the assailing branches that hung low in the forests. Seven men, guards from the city patrol, he judged by the emblems that was clearly marked upon the shields of the men. "What are they doing here? They should know better than to invade the Woods of Vilsrough without my permission." He snarled to himself, a low mumble that was barely audible over the noise that the procession was making. He reached to his back, and pulled out a small object from his back pocket. A symbol of a unicorn head with engravings along the edge of the circular pendant.

He held the pendant close to his heart and closed his eyes in concentration. The elf’s voice filled the air, his chanting interrupting the men from their destructive advance into the heart of the forest. His voice chimed melodiously, his melody ringing in the air, more beautiful than the lovely forests and warmer than the glow of the sun. He continued the song, calling upon the power of the very woods he lived in.

The men looked around them, confused and wary. Many tales have been spun about the Woods of Vilsrough, stories of an unseen watcher who protected the woods and its inhabitants. The disembodied voice continued its melodious song, its elven words seeming to be a string of unintelligible mumbling.

Then, the words of power finally took effect as the spell ended. Vines and roots stuck out of the ground and reached for the unsuspecting men and their pets. The entire forest floor burst into motion, as the trees themselves seemed to come to life and reach for the men. Panic seized the intruders as they witnessed the very essence of the woods reach out to entangle them.

A hideous smile crept across the face of the elf as he watched the pathetic humans fight for their own puny little lives. That would teach them to have more respect for the woods that he called his home. Then, the entangling plant-life retreated from their assault and freed the men once more. It didn’t take long for the men to know that their presence was not wanted in the foreboding woods.

Ghostly laughter followed the men as they fled from the woodlands in a hurry.

>>#2

A lonely journey

Tap...Tap...Tap...

Footsteps echoed in the backdrop of silence. The scraping of gravel upon the feet. The heels clacking upon loose stones, an endless rhythmic tapping that mirrored the constant beating of the heart.

The essence of time and space itself, seems lost. Trapped somewhere within the recesses of the mind, caged in the monotonous rhythm that now permeates the empty road.

Tap...Tap...Tap...

The journey he made in silence. There was no need for words. There was noone around to listen to them. No other sound, but the beating of a heart - his heart. And of course the tapping of his feet.

His downcast gaze fell upon cold ground. A rough, cold, lifeless gravel road. An earthly silence decorated by dim twilight. All that moved, was his shadow, walking in tune to the rhythm of his feet. His only companion. Always there in the dark of night or the bright of day. His shadow, noticed or otherwise, always there. Just like the rhythm of his feet.

Tap...Tap...Tap...

How lonely he felt. Upon an empty road, traversing across a long journey to nowhere. Led by footsteps left behind by a stranger. Yet...

Tap...Tap...Tap...

He felt at peace. Under the silvery sheen of heavenly bodies, he'd never felt more at one with himself. Just like the quiet air that swum with him through his journey, so was his mind in harmony. It made a monotonous beat. A slow, deathly heavy beat that echoed his footsteps. On and on, till the end of time.

Tap...Tap...Tap...Tap...

History wrapped in my eyes

Tears are the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is laid on it - Albert Smith

In all the traits that is of a woman
For all the strengths of a mother
And hidden amidst the beauty of a girl
Her greatest assets are her tears.

The soft quiet defenders of the eyes. Always there but never noticed.

The shield of my eye. The silent mark of compassion. Within it lies numerous marks and scars. It is my wailing cry of pain. It holds much of my sympathy. And within it, is my world of joy.

No amount of words could describe the pain hidden within a single tear. Sadness multiplied a thousand fold. Despair unimaginable in a flood of emotional turmoil. The wounds of the heart unleashed in a single tear drop.

In silence, I would cry.

Within the sufferings of others, I sense unease. Within their pain, I sense the broken pieces of peace. And for them I would shed my tears. For in their tears, I feel the weight of years. They're in pain, and for that, I am too.

In their pain, I would cry.

And when greatness is bestowed upon me, that brings elation and happiness beyond explanation, I could only answer with tears. Only with the sparkling rain of moisturous emotion.

In joy, I would cry.

Looking back upon my years, remembering my past happiness and sadness, all I could do is cry.

Criticise me...

To avoid criticism, do nothing, say nothing, be nothing. - Elbert Hubbard

No matter where we turn, there's no hiding from the eyes of people. People and their sharp snake-like tongues. People stabbing with their accusive glares and abrasive comments. And there is nothing we can do to successfully avoid such circumstances entirely. It is a fact of life.

Take a walk down the street. Twirl a pen or flip a coin. What are the chances that a random passer-by might have a stray comment or instinctual judgement of your character as well as the way you walk?

Looking at perhaps the way you walk or twirl your pen, there may be a hundred and one different things about you that he may wish to comment and criticise. Such is the story for over a million and one things that we do in this world. We are constantly being watched and judged.

The best defense against it, lurks somewhere deep in the depths of your mind. It is what some may call, nonchalant ignorance.

You can't let praise or criticism get to you. It's a weakness to get caught up in either one. - John Wooden

People are constantly judging what we say and do. Once we learn to accept this fact and cope with it, life would be so much simpler. Words are merely words. Comments merely suggestions. If you wish to take heed, then do so. Otherwise, let it slide.

Some criticisms are made in good faith. Meant to show the path to self-betterment. These, ought to be taken gracefully. Smile and thank the critic. For perhaps, his point of view may help, rather than hinder your progress. Take his suggestions and give it some thought. Though you may not decide to follow through with his idea, at least give it some thought.

There are also those who criticise with the intention of hurting. Them, you can ignore. Words meant to hurt are nothing more than the barkings of a stray dog.

If your heart acquires strength, you will be able to remove blemishes from others without thinking evil of them - Mahatma Ghandi

The strong judge only to help, not to hurt. Remember that.

A Fool I Am...Just A Fool....

Thoughts. My thoughts. A hundred and one abstract concepts that run through my head like the gush of water from an open tap. All of them meaningless philosophies. Few of them even directly beneficial to my everyday life. So why do I think about these things?

The hidden meaning of life, reasons why things happen, words of wisdom and random bits of information that have little to do with myself. Why do I think about all these things? Trying to solve puzzles that need no solving. It's an addiction. But why do I do it?

Aren't I better off tackling the more urgent troubles in my life? Why do I not, instead, concentrate on the emotional trauma and mental distress that is really plaguing me? Am I just trying to escape from my problems by directing my attention onto other things? Am I just being a coward?

I had thought it wisdom to be asking these things. But really, am I seeking enlightenment, or behaving like the fool that I am? Wisdom is the search for knowledge to better understand and love life. Yet now, I feel absolutely no love for this life. No hatred, but no love either. Just an empty space.

Again I continue to digress my thoughts away from me. Has my insignificance made me unnoticable even to myself? Or perhaps, I'm searching for an antidote for the troubles that haunt me by looking out to my surroundings. Seeking solace in this little playground God has put me in. The very same place that has been the source of all my scars. Indeed I am a fool.

The Dead Heart

Ain, I read your blog, and I think I've figured out what you might be looking for, so here goes nothing:

When the heart suffocates in silence. When emotions run amuck. When all you feel, is darkness and pain, and all your thoughts are a-jumble. That is when you know that your heart is dead.

You could plaster a smile upon your face. Play a facade of cheery laughter to family and friends. Few people would even know, that deep down inside, your heart is dead.

It is not something you could say. Neither is it something you could describe. It is silence. Nothing. Emptiness. Void. A palatable dark hole in your heart that just eats away into your sanity. And all you could do, is suffer in silence. Nobody knows; because nobody hears it. Absolutely nobody can hear it.

You break down and cry. They would ask why. But there is no way to tell them. It is not something that can be spoken or described. There is no name for it. It can only be felt. Could they understand that there is a deep gash in your heart? Could they see the emptiness? Thus you suffer alone, screaming in the silence.

When the heart is frozen and silenced, all that's left, is a fragile mind. You mumble to fill the emptiness. You try to make some noise. But the void persists. Your heart is hollow.

You grow numb. Moments fleet past you, remaining only as blur tickings of the clock. Smudged by the invisible hands of pain and sadness, you let it slip. What is there left to do? Your heart, is dead.

Meaning of Silence

Ever wondered what life would be like without sound? What would it be like to have absolutely no sense of hearing? Pause for a minute and think. How important is your sense of hearing?

Then, slow down and listen. What do you hear? What is it that your ears are telling you? What is the world screaming out to you?

A myriad of sounds and dronings that never stop. Ever-flowing, ever-buzzing and ever-changing. Be it upon the roadside during peak hours of traffic, or under star-light, by the beach. From the droning of car engines and blaring horns to the still quiet shuffling of the waves upon the sand.

What if there was no sound? What if, all you heard, was a deathly empty silence that was beyond description? No low buzzing sound, no shrill humming, not even the beat of your heart and the soft sound of the pen writing upon the pad. What if, there was silence?

Not a spoken word. Just a silent play of images. Living a life of total, absolute silence. Seeing the world in new light. The light of a deaf man. Try reliving a single day of your life without sound. What would it be like?

Few among us appreciate the sounds we hear. A child's cries, a mother's tears, tweeting of birds and the buzzing of bees. Once it all disappears, how would you feel? Would you enjoy the silence? What will you see?

See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence...we need silence to be able to touch souls.- Mother Teresa

Blood

Blood. Boiling lava coursing through my veins.

Burning red scars; Imprints of life upon sheets of reality.

The red elixir of life; The color of pain.

The messenger of life. Bringer of tranquility.
~


Red paint accompanied by blackness.

Warm streaks of lightning upon the cold.

Fissures piercing an empty canvas.

The harbinger of change.
~


Red fires of burning passion.

Purveyor of justice and wanton destruction.

The sacred ties abinding.

The primordial judge
~


You. The keeper of knowledge.

The mentor of old.

The grim wise sage.

Death bringer and life giver. The master of forms.
~


You. Surrounded by mitigating fumes of undeath.

Filled with the decaying stench of life.

A squirming ooze filled with power.

Trickling away from my hands like sand. Blood.
~



~
Within the deadly silence of the night, when all that you can hear is nothingness, you are alone. The world stops moving. Everything dies. And that you can hear,is the sound of your heart beating.

That silence, snaps you back to reality. You awaken to the sound of your blood pumping in your veins. What had once seemed to be emptiness, now exists a fog. A whirring blaze of ooze that runs through the tunnels in your veins.

The more you listen to it, the deeper you enter into this trancelike state of silence. Your heart beats. Once. Twice. Three times. It all goes into a crawl. Nothing. Everything just became nothing.

And within the empty blackness of your mind, It begins to paint a picture. The thumping mirrors your soul. Within the calm serenity of the night, your blood is the only thing that is screaming.

The silence. It accentuates nothing, and everything. As you listen to blood, pumping through your veins, you will learn. Learn from the heart that beats within you. Read upon the red scrolls that run through the tunnels of your soul. Listen to your blood, screaming from within. One. Two. Three.



Hushhhhhh......

Broken Heart

A final comfort that is small, but not cold: The heart is the only broken instrument that works. - T.E Kalem

Under the sunlit warmth of the deep blue skies
Ravaged by the coldness of your smiles
I lay in wait, I crumble in pain
There's no changing what's been written

Fate cannot be changed, destiny will be fulfilled
The bright of day shall always give way to night
In my heart, the truth is real. Too real
You were never mine to begin with. Just a dream

White clouds roll by, leaving a trail of stars
Decorating the sky with bright white scars
Impregnable beauty enslaved in worldly sight
Enstranged with ribbons, lined in fractures

The rules of the world cannot be bent
I will be broken by those words unspoken
My heart has been crippled
I have been chained by you

My life meanders onwards without you
Endless rantings of broken wishes bedeck the plains
All of them pointing, pointing back the way I came
All of them crying, crying out your name

Withered and broken by words unspoken
I yell out your name, and yet, I'm not heard
I'm just hurt, painfully hurt
I lie broken but alive, very much alive

Alone I'm left with a heart lying dead
Tears trickling from eyes burnt red
Nobody notices, nobody cares
Not even you, the one I adore

But I fear not fate
What is emptiness if not the lack of things to lose?
Mayhap one day the bitterness will leave
In the mean time, I shall nurse my broken heart with grief.



I thought when love for you died, I should die. It's dead. Alone, most strangely, I live on. - Rupert Brooke

Life in virtue

Without virtue, man can have no happiness in this world - Benjamin Franklin

Virtues. Manliness. Strength.

Virtue is a source of strength in a person. It is the preternatural instinct embedded within the human spirit, that identifies the difference between right and wrong. It is what governs the way we behave. It is the central backbone of the human conscience and morality.

It involves a code of ehtics that give rise to responsibility and kindness. It is the father to sportsmanship and good will amongst friends, family as well as rivals.

Yet, virtues can differ from one person to the next, changing according to circumstances and situations. And amidst this wide range of virtuous difference that exists in this sea of people, we are left to ask, which is the most virtuous and magnificent of all the codes of conducts which we follow? Be kindness more important than honor? Should courage be held in highest esteem as compared to humility? Is love more important than justice?

What would happen when our code of ethics is put in question? What if you are forced to make a difficult decision that challenges the very virtues that you live by? What will you do?

What is your code of ethics? What is it that gives you the strength to act on despite challenges? Have you ever wondered why you make the choices that you make in life? Are you driven by courage, strength or bravery? Do you believe in the power of humility or love? Discover yourself. Find the virtues that are instilled within you.

Live by the code
Die by the code
Find yourself in faith
Brand yourself in it

Set afire yonder heart
Shed light upon the inner self
Close away the shadows of uncertainty
Live within virtuous tenacity

Know oh child of the blind
That laws govern your heart
Find peace in them
Reach for tranquility's storm

Find your tunes of harmony
Seek for balance
Only you can find the light
For you are the one who sheds it

Shine...shine...shine...

First comes marriage, then comes love,

Be there a flower that can choose its pollen. Be there a seed that chooses where it lands?

As people, we've all wished for the freedom to choose. The freedom to decide.

Who do you want for a spouse? Who is deserving of that position of being a husband or wife to you? Who should be the one to decide that? You? The other half? Your family? Or friends?

And what should the decision be based upon? Love? Or isit background. Who he is, what you want or need. What he can give you. Or perhaps, what his family or yours, is like.

Marriage has always been a big and celebrated event. The union of two souls to become one. To forever exist together till the day when you die. Though it doesn't always turn out as lovely as it is made out to be.

But really, who does reserve the right to choose your soul mate? Would you let your parents make this difficult, life-changing decision? Or would you rather be the one to decide?

We live in a world where love is made out to be the pre-determining factor in marriage. In order for you to marry someone, you have to love him first. And as such light is shed, it is impossible for a marriage that is decided before such feelings blossom, to work. But is this a misconception?

How many of the people you know married because they wanted to do so? And were their spouses of their choosing? Do they like the life they live in now?

How many of the people you know married to people of their parents' choosing? What kind of lives do they live in? Is it any better?

Would you marry someone of your parents' choosing?

The basis of any good family's choice would most often be upon religion, background and character. That couldn't be bad, now, could it? To have your spouse picked and chosen by those whom care for you.

That prospect is one that would be gladly entertained by those whom are free from the whims of a young child touched by the tendrils of free-roaming love and affections. But those whom have felt the tugging of crushes and affections, it may appear to be more of a burden. Would a life lived in marriage to a person other than the one you love be happy one?

Would you want to live if your husband or wife, was not the one you wanted to marry? Would it be a happy marriage? Could you love him?

The question really, is why not?

Marriage proposed by parents, is a decision done on the basic thought that it would lead to good for the family, as well as the child in question. Would that the marriage bring prosperity and bright prospects to te family as a whole. As for the couple to be married, well, to love someone is to learn to live with that person.

Love is cultivated. Marriage, is a contract. Love can grow in almost any circumstance. This desert flower could plant itself within the hearts of strangers. Even those bound by the ties of marriage before it could blossom. So the question is, do You wish to choose the one you love, or would you like to leave it to the hands of your elders?

Be there a flower that can choose its pollen. Be there a seed that chooses where it lands?

My answer: We are that flower. We are that seed.

Fragmented vision.

It has always been a deterrent in our search for understanding. It is the line upon which the limits of our capabilities are drawn on. It is what makes us human.

The human mind is a gem. A multi-faceted jewel encased in glimmering starlight. It is beautiful, but its vision is flawed: Limited and refracted by the very faces that give it its beauty.

The human person's understanding of the universe is limited by what he can see or comprehend. And more often than not, what he sees is but a small fraction of the overall structure. The tip of the iceberg.

The young child who plays at the playground doesn't understand why it makes her happy. She just knows that it does.

The physicist knows of the existence of gravity. Yet he does not know exactly how or why it is there. It just is.

Likewise, the artist paints up beautiful pictures that many praise and envy. But when asked of the source of his inspirations, his answers would be vague. He does not know.

When asked question after question after question after question, we would, in the end, find ourselves baffled by one question or another. None among us could boast of infinite knowledge. Likewise, there is non among us who could see and comprehend the wholeness and the workings of the universe. The ways of the world, are hidden from us.

We only know what we see, and only see what we know. This is where our judgement is flawed. For we decide based upon an incomplete picture. How well can we decide with barely half the facts in our hands?

People are always asking "why do we have to suffer?" or "why do things have to be the way they are?". These, are signs of our ignorance and shallow insight. This shows just how far we can see into the heart of the world we live in.

There are reasons why things are the way they are. And there's a very good reason why we do not see these reasons clearly. Even though they stare upon us right in the face.

That reason, hides deep within our hearts. For the knowledge and understanding that we seek, lies not outside, but within us. We are just too blind to see. For our eyes, look upon the world with biasness. With a vision that centers, upon...us. So when you look upon the world, ask yourself, "What am I looking at?"

If you see it the way I see it, you may never find the answer to that question...

Beauty in Death

Imagine a world that would never end. Picture a life of constant existence without an end. What if your soul was forever condemned to an existence upon this earth, and to never leave it? What would it feel like?

What would it feel like? How would it feel to live an existence that spans the millenia; And continue to do so upon a treadmill of time that sees no end?

If your body could rot and die away and leave you like shell-less slug. Or if you remembered the years long past, and the years beyond that. If you could watch decay, yet live through it.

What would it be like to live through the ages, yet never age? To have a youthfull shell that trancends over the decaying touch of time. To continue your earthly existence forever and never let go of your memories. To remember every detail of life that extends to an infinity of time.

Would life be so much better with no end? Could there be a beginning without there being an ending? Could there be a life without death?

To fully carry life out, it must be ended, for immortality is merely eternal uncertainty. - Dan Mencher

Death is neither good nor evil, right nor wrong, passive nor aggressive. Its nature remains its own. It is finality, having no form, and not needing one. It is a mirror of a man's life.

The man who leads a good life, finds a good end to it. Likewise the man who leads a dark life, leads himself to a dark end.

Thus is the beauty of death. It is life. It is what you make of it.

Life

Each passing day is muddled and clowdy. One week melds into the other, and the months are an endless string of days, with no beginnings or ends.

It is destined for the human soul to walk through this treadmill of time. And so he walks, putting one foot in front of the other, feeling the days roll by and at the same time, feeling stuck.

No matter what he does, he would still feel empty. As if something was missing in his life.

But he continued to trudge through. Days would pass, then weeks, and years. Slowly, his strength would ebb away. Weariness would sink in and life would become dreary. The emptiness would grow.

His eyes, blurred with age, could no longer see like they used to. But it no longer mattered to him. For no matter how far ahead he looked, he could see no end. No amount of squinting would reveal any exit from the endless loop of days. And so, there was no need to see.

His ears could no longer hear like they used to. They stopped telling him of what was coming or going. They no longer warned him of what was around him anymore. There was no need for that now. He had heard all there was to hear. He did not wish to hear anymore. It was all the same. Life never changed.

His nose no longer sniffed the fresh air with gladness. Staleness did not bother him anymore. He couldn't tell the difference. It was all the same bland scent. He couldn't care less for it. Not anymore.

Nothing mattered. All that he yearned for, was an end. An end to the monotany. A stop to the endless droning. A finality to the tickings of the clock and the rotation of the earth. He just wanted to stop.

It was all he could ask for. To escape the grey silent movie that was now his life. To be free of the ringing, disembodied quietness of his life. Then again, what more was a dead man supposed to ask for?

Becoming Stronger

Weakness. A meek sense of disability that can manifest itself in many different ways.

A slow mind, lack of strength, the inability to walk, speak or even see. All these, minor disabilities that can escalate themselves into major weaknesses.

But don't get it wrong. Disabilities may be challenging, but they are not weaknesses. A blind man may not be able to see, but he's no idiot. His depravation of sight enables him to concentrate and empower his other faculties. He hears and feels more than what we could ever hope to achieve.

A man may be shorter than his average counterparts, but that does not make himself weak. He might even be able to do a lot of other stuff. Squeeze through small openings, dodge and weave through large crowds or even remain hidden in smaller places. As a matter of fact, the disability may prove more of a strength.

Weakness does not come from physical disabilities. It is a state of mind. It is a mental and spiritual affliction. A disease.

Every person starts off as a babe. A child maleable to the hands of nature and society. As we grow, we develop niches and strengths of our own. Just like a seesaw, as we improve in certain aspects of our lives, others will be neglected. These may be referred to as a "weakness".

But it can never become a weakness, unless you let it. The true strength in a person, lies not in how much he can carry or how hurtful and damaging he can be. That is merely empty power. True strength lies in the will to fight for what you believe in. The drive to fight for what you believe. To take punishment in stride and not give in.

A man who is unable to perform a task due to the lack of strength or mental capacity, is not weak. But if he does not try. If he does not believe in himself. If he gives up before he even begins the task, then he is no more than a coward. Weak, fragile, hopeless.

Giving in is a sign of weakness. The day you stop standing for what you believe in, is the day you've become a weakling. And the day that you start letting others tell you who and what you are, is the day you've become nothing more than a rag-doll.

Be strong. Know that just like everyone else, you have your shortcomings too. And just like them, you have your strengths too. Believe in yourself. Let nobody weaken you down.

Instead, learn from your shortcomings. Grow from that which tries to pull you down.

Our strength grows out of our weaknesses. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Smile... : D

From Abraham Lincoln to Hitler and Stalin, many a great leaders had it. From Albert Einstein to Socrates, many great minds flaunted it. The Greeks sported it and the Romans hated it. The English Gentleman thought highly of it, while men now belittle it.

The Moustache

What is the purpose of this tuft of hair under the nose? And why is it that most men are bound to have it while women are less likely to find themselves endowed with it? Is it just genes? But what's more important, is why do men sport it?

Let us look at the famous figures in history whom had moustaches as part of their get-ups.


Adolf Hitler.
Born: 20 April 1889
Died: 30 April 1945
Birthplace: Branou, Upper Austria

Well known and hated for being the Dictatorial ruler of Germany, he had been the cause of the death of millions during World War II. He was a Nazi Leader and a decorated veteran of World War I, armed with great charisma and intelligence that could move an entire country and change the very course of history.


Errol Flynn
Born: 20 October 1909
Died: 14 October 1959
Birthplace: Hobart, Tasmania

He was one of the biggest Hollywood stars of the 1930's. Suave, charming and an all around bad-boy. His life was a controversial one filled with booze, women and crime.


Albert Einstein
Born: 14 March 1879
Died: 18 April 1955
Birthplace: Ulm, Germany

He was the man who came up with the General theory of Relativity. A groundbreaking notion that set the pathway for the rest of the world to follow. His works had profound impact upon many fields of sciences, including Quantum Physics.


Mark Twain
Born: 30 November 1835
Died: 21 April 1910
Birthplace: Florida, Missouri

An incredible Writer of his time, Mark Twain was best known for being the author of "Tom Sawyer" as well as "Huckleberry Finn". His writings have been used in many literature studies by Americans, even to this day.


Charlie Chaplin
Born: 16 April 1889
Died: 25 December 1977
Birthplace: London, England

Sir Charles Chaplin was a superstar of his time. He invaded the silent movies with comical acts, dressed as a character known simply as "The Little Tramp".

The list just goes on. Many a famous people sport moustaches for one reason or another.

Such bushy out-growhts had once been symbols of rank within the military, as well as fashionable additions that made up a person's character.

In the history of the military, only high ranking officials were allowed to sport moustaches. The higher your rank, the thicker the bush.

Englishmen keep them long and trim, seeing the image as one of classy sophistication back then.

Yet in the trends of fashion that has now taken over our society, a bushy moustache is an unsightly feature. Messy and ugly. But you be the judge. Would any man you know look better with a bushy smile? You be the judge.

Friend

We've gone our own ways and I know it's for the best, but sometimes I wonder will i ever have a friend like you again? - Blink 182

Amid the silence of midsummer's night
Under the shine of silvery moonlight
I stand under the boughs of a giant oak
My mind astray, my heart revoked

I look down the earthen path old
You walkked on away with steps bold
No goodbyes or sweet farewells
Uttering those words were difficult as hell

The understanding was mutual
Our friendship a casualty of battle
You did not smile as you left
Did not even care for what I felt

All I could see upon your face
Was a stern demeanor of demonic grace
Still I could sense the grievance and pain
You're just hiding it under that veil

Yet each step you took flowed like water
You fleed from me faster than a raging river
Did I bring you that much shame?
Or am I the evil one in the game?

I can't comprehend any of this
How'd our friendship get torn to bits?
How could you let it be so?
Why was I quiet throughout the show?

Thus did friendship once so sweet
Turn bitter as a rotten sugar beet
I regret ever letting it happen
But now's too late to change course taken

Our ties of friendship are undone
Frayed and melted by the sands of time
All that's left is memories past
Remnants of a friendship we thought would last

I cleared my eyes of the tears
Reminiscing memories of past years
This pain is driving me insane
Do you not feel the same?

There's nothing left in my heart
You tore it all apart
Now all that's left is a ghost of a shell
An empty, cold, dry well

All I have to say to you
For all you've done the whole time through
From when we began till the time we part
Peace be upon you friend of my heart

Friends are like the seasons. They come and go, following the passage of the sands within the hourglass.

When they've passed, You'll find yourself empty. No matter where you go or what you do, you will still feel lost. As if standing upon a rolling desert of sand and dust. With nothing to accompany you but the howling winds and the billowing sands. No matter how far you walk, for how long, it doesn't make a difference. Because there is none to share it with. No one to laugh and cry with. No one to listen to you. No one to talk to you. No one.

Dreams of a blind man

I could feel its gentle caresses upon my face. The soft flowing touch of its delicate body sends a calm, serene ripple of pleasure all through me. It flowed all over me. Seeped right through me. It cradled me within its silky delicate hands.

Cool, sweet scintilating rush of happiness. I took a deep long breath. Ahhhhh...The sweet, refreshing smell of fresh roses in the early morning. My lungs screamed out the flutering happiness of a thousand butterflies in the peaceful quiet of the rising sun. The elation within every breath, was like the beauty that I now felt upon my skin. Unbelieavable.

It hummed its melodious tune to my ears. Singing to me softly. A quiet tinkling music barely audible over the lovely chantings of the birds all around. Listening to its singing; their singing, there was nothing I could do but appreciate it. The low moaning and high crescendo of their song. I loved it.

I stood there, reaching out to it, relishing in its soft touch and quiet voice. I reached out and sang with it.

Can you imagine a life without sight? What will you see? Picture the beauty of a dream without pictures. How will it be?

The Raven - Evil, Dark, Loathsome

The raven. Dark, eerie and brooding. Loud and often misunderstood.

A companion to witches and warlocks. The representative of death and bad luck. An evil omen. Be these wily creatures of ebony beauty as ugly as they've been made out to be? Far from it.

These creatures of twilight are intelligent survivors of the ancient world. They are the scavengers of the medieval lands. Dark companions of the lonely and outcast. they live mysterious lives, appearing and disappearing from sight as they please, bringing their raucous cries with them wherever they go.

How did they get so closely associated with their titles? Why do we see them in such a dark light? Is it the color of their feathers? Or maybe their harsh shrill voices?

Death. The bleak end which comes to us all. The entity that looms over the fields of war. Picture it. The aftermath of a colossal battle. Hundreds of dead bodies littered on soil caked with dried blood. The revolting stench of death hangs heavy in the air. Amidst the graveyard of bodies and weapons, lurks creatures dark as the night. They peck and feed upon the dead. The vile smell inviting to these creatures. Nature's "clean-up crew". The ravens.

An old hag, greying with age and wisdom, travels through the woods as she always does; In solitude. Her hideous wrinkled and wart-ridden face looking out to the silent woods, the only place where she can find true peace and acceptance. No family. No friends. And one day, she finds a little hatchling. The tiny bird lying on the ground chirping helplessly. She picks it up and raises it as her own child. Thus did it grow into her dark companion, its beady intelligent eyes recognising her as its mother.

Years pass, stories became exaggerated. New tales spun. Memories blurred and warped. Thus, the raven became what it is now. A mysterious creature of urban myth and furious intensity matching its color.

I Love You

Need it be said? Does it have to be pronounced? Why must we announce it? Need love be told to be known?

In a world crawling with romance and short-lived passion, it's hard to find true love. It becomes even more so when you have dozens of people announcing their love and devotion to you. Who among them is sincere? I love you. I can't live without you. Phrases that have become synonymous with romance and love. Effective pick-up lines if said at the right place and times. Is that all it has become? Pick-up lines?

Its depth could only be comprehended by the one who said it. Yet, do we need to hear those words to know that compassion exists? That love exists.

Perhaps we do need to hear it. Then comes the question of "are we listening out for it?".

The signs of love and affection are sometimes subtle and small. So minute that we pass them off as nothing more than smal favors. Yet, isn't that what love is? A favor.

Sometimes, it turns out to be a huge favor that ultimately goes unpaid and unnoticed. The one who truly loves you may not necessarily be the one who says it out loud. Friends, siblings, parents. Sometimes the last people you would expect these magic words to come from. At times, these people tell you their love in very different ways. Small simple acts of love you see everyday. Do you take notice of them?

I love you can be said through actions, not words. No amount of telling can match what one silent action could achieve. Judge not a person's love for you through what he says. Judge him through what he does.

And remember, at times, the one who truly cares, is not the one who speaks to you. Rather, it's the one who listens. These are the people usually forgotten. Remember them. Love them as they loved you. For they will not shout it out to you. They may be the ones loving you while you blindly search for it elsewhere.

Stop. Appreciate. Have you seen the love?

A spy story

Clad in black from head to toe, the figure snuck with the stealth that was so common among those within his profession. His feet stepped upon the thin ledge with the surety of a cat up on a tall tree branch as he crossed the ledge overhanging the two roofs.

Silent steps trailed wherever he tread. His eyes and ears sharper than a hawk’s and his reflexes swifter than a viper’s. Never had he thought it would be so easy to infiltrate this building. Looks like easy money.

A swift leap down to the balcony, through the window and he was inside. He crept in the darkness, silent as a mouse, ears twitching to every sound that assailed them. Coast was clear. He continued on deeper into the building. Hopefully he could get to the core before his 10 minute time slot was out.

Suddenly, the whole building lit up and loud alarms sounded everywhere within the premises. He cursed under his breath and spun around to dash back to the room. As he leapt for the window. The whirring of gears and clanging of steel resounded as a metal sheet slid down and covered his escape.

He spun around to move out. Then stopped. There was a commotion outside. He knew it was too good to be true. They’d planned for it. Footsteps were coming his way.

Despite all those years training, he had allowed himself to become trapped. The footsteps were coming closer and the only way out was a window that looked out upon a 30 meter drop. And even that was blocked. He shook his head. He’s screwed.

He flew over to the door and slammed it shut. His eyes darted left and right. There had to be a way out. There always was. His calculative mind raced , going over one plan after another. All of it was scrapped.

Boom! Boom! The door shook and screamed as they pounded on it. He left from the door and he looked around the room. Desk, sofa, electrical lamp. Cushion. Rug. Nothing he could use.

Screeching and whirring gears hummed again. Moonlight streamed through the window as the steel seal rose. He stared suspiciously out the window. Something wasn’t right.

He put his hand to his ear, depressing the device buried under the flap of skin on the back of his ear. “Max, you hear me?” He whispered

Static. “Get out of there!” Came the familiar voice of Max amidst the static. He dashed out the window. Big mistake.

Last thing he felt, was a sharp pain on the frontal lobe of his brain, as he crumpled down on the balcony, a bullet driven into his head.

Of abortion

To throw a life away. How does it feel? How does it feel to murder someone? To cull the life of a child.

Abortion. There are many reasons why it happens, and there are many reasons why it shouldn't.

The reasons for a mother to go through with abortion's many. Perhaps she's too young. She may not be ready to have children. She may not be ready and mature enough for motherhood. Or perhaps blame it on financial instability. Or marriage. How would it look for a single woman to have a child? And the list just goes on.

Pregnancy marks the beginning to a vast change to a woman's life. One that she may not be ready for. Thus are the reasons for abortion. Selfish? Perhaps. Painful? Yes.

The reason why it shouldn't be done is faily simple. It is murder. Though some would say that would be debatable.

How is it murder if the child does not have a personality or any obvious signs of being fully developed or human? The time when the conceived child is said to have a life in itself is debatable. Some say it is alive from the point when the ovum was first fertilised, others when the first clot of blood comes into being. There are others still who believe that life first begins when the brain and heart first develops.

So is it fine to destroy it before such stages in the foetus' development begins? Let us look at things a little differently.

The conceived child, is an organism with its own set of DNA (Dioxyribonucleic acid). Its own unique set of chromosomes. It is ready to begin its journey to growing. It had begun as two sepparate beings. A sperm and an egg. They joined together and within that moment became one. They become the foetus. So I ask now. Is it alive? Is it human? You be the judge.

Be it murder or otherwise, the reasons why women choose to go through with abortion are understandable; though fairly debatable No matter how you look at it, culling a life before its birth is an ugly thing.

Beyond abortion here's always adoption. And contraceptives. There's always the choice of reducing the chances of pregnancy via avoidance. So why choose abortion?

Fertility is highly prized and children are a gift of God to bring joy to our eyes. It is sad to see them being thrown away just like that.

Though it may seem like the easy way around things, it's far from it. Abortion is a painful affair, for the child as well as the mother.

The amount of mental torture that would drive a mother to kill her own child, is immense. And the pressure would hardly lessen after that. For the weight of losing a child would remain with her. Even though it's yet to be born. The pain will be something she will remember for the rest of her life. The pain of losing a part of herself. Of losing her child.Of abortion.