Love...Loss...Light...Darkness...

Under the carpet of the stars he stood, listening to the rolling beats of the ocean froth upon the waiting sands. It was a beautiful night.

He only wished for it to last forever.

The air remained silent, blowing a cool gentle breeze upon his skin. A touch soft sa silk and just as priceless. He loved it.

He looked up past the twinkling sparkles of the night sky to the moon. The radiant silvery light that washed over him was indeed a heavenly gift. A smile he returned to the heavenly body that now rained its mercurial beauty down upon him. How he loved it.

He wriggled his toes and felt the sand kneading his feet. Their playful little bestibules sending tingles upon his skin. The softness of it and the way the fine little grains of whiteness trickled off his feet bit by bit everytime he raised his feet. He loved their companionship.

And the soft lullaby of the ocean. Ahhh. A song he never grew tired of listening to. A voice he could never forget. Whispering promises of love, hope, peace and eternity. Eternity; How he longed for this moment to last an eternity.

All his senses were on overload. His very being trembled with sheer joy. Nothing else existed beyond the here and now. Nothing else but him and the night. The thrill of it. He felt like a balloon near bursting. Passion ran through his veins sending him flying up to a feverish high. it was ecstacy. He was in love.

Then...The sun rose...

Nothing

What happens when it all amounts to nothing?

we live through struggles to change and to achieve. Work that goes unpaid is usually saaid to be a mere waste of time. And of this most of us are inclined to agree.

Have you ever given your all for a single cause only to fail in achieving your goal?

Our time in this world is drastically limited. Spending our lives seeking achievements only to find obstacles in their place time and time again. The reasons why we do what we do is possibly the only source of strength when all else fails. But when do you decide that too much is too much? How do you know that enough is enough?

"Persistence: Continuing on a course of action without regard to discouragement, opposition or previous failure" - Will Smith from the movie "Hitch"

When you reach the end of the line and patience threatens to fail but still your goal remains out of reach, how do you feel?

We all live for one purpose or another. There are things a person can care for beyond a reasonable doubt. Every person needs something that they can believe in. An objective to work to.

Should all your works go to waste and your persistence merely lead to ultimate failure, what happens next?

Much of this world amounts to nothing. Just what are we living for?

Points of Views

The point of view changes from place to place, face to face
The sight takes cue from the days erased, time misplaced
Darkness consumes the blind infused, pointing but one way
Narrowed down by a single cue upon the table grey

Will that purity to heed but one voice, direct it
Only one stream to swim to the blackness within, to eat
You are the juncture, the bridge
The command is yours, my liege

The crust of the world resists change, remains neutered
Perspectives hold hard unchanging, stiffly wintered
The true players of the game, unwavering sight
Never to turn away from one, unto them the nudge of white

In the rolling visions of events transparent, things change
Disfigured moments send comprehension reeling, all remains the same
And the only one who sees all things, comprehends all views
Is the only one removed from the fields, is the only one with a clue

Bring me back my point of view

They Say

They say you need company to appreciate
But when you have company, it becomes you
And when that happens, you will forget
Forget the rest of the world that shares itself with you

They say that life is a blessing
Each passing moment you wonder if it's true
Cause slowly as time passes you by, you notice
Life's fleeting moments are truly heavy weights to accrue

They say better to have loved and lost than to not at all
how true is it when the only color of love is blue
All that's left to do is wait
As love is gone you know it's all through

They say there's still some good in this world
That to wait for it is all you need do
And wait for it you shall
Like an idiot without a clue

Beloved

There are things in this world that we can never give up. Objects of passion, love and desire that we can never give in.

What is your one and only love and desire?

What would you do if you lose it?

I am

I am
Fret me
Creation
The spark

Certainty is
As it always has been
Move on
For I am

Look on
You'll never find it
Each step taken
Only proves one thing

Inevitable
It's clocked in
tap.Tap.Tap.
It's all brown. No. Black

Fret not
You know very well
We'll meet
I am

No sympathies
Misgivings
Luck
Absolute

Winds of Change

The winds of change that sweeeps through our lives never ceases to blow over. Day in day out, the sun rises and sets. Our world continues to spin on an ever slowing, repetitive gait of never-ending night and day. Amid the pseudo-regular ecents of everyday life is a myriad of changes.

Trickling streams that carve the way for the grat rivers to grow into. They meander upon stoic earth letting the land set their paths toward the great sea. As the salty giant eats away at the never-ending river, he feeds the skies with an endless supply of vapors. Ingredients with which to make their smoky blankets. The cycle repeats as the clouds bring the moisture back to the mountains where the rivers spring forth. Always a constant flow of regulated movement.

These cycles mask within them changes unnoticed lest one pays attention to them. Changes rarely make themselves known lest you make the effort to look out for them. A flower in bloom does not make any noise. Only those who look out for it will see. Changes are just like the rose; silent actors in life.

Change is the only constant that stays true in this rhythm filled universe we live in. All things repeat, yet nothing happens twice. Latch on as hard as you can to the passing breeze. For those who remain stationary may as well find themselves stranded in confusion. Left behind by the rest of the world in time.

Complain not of storms, droughts and loss. These agents of clear change are perhaps the kindest and most honest. Learn from them. They will pass.

Remnants

These tiny pieces that break away
Traces of which time does not contain
No reprieve I can receive from which I can conceive

Heartbreaks; Flakes of past at play
Tears unshed in this constant passing rain
Why is the past that's left refusing to leave

Eaceh minute that breaks the day
Adds to the weight of soul-meld pain
Caged as I am in this web I weave

Stretched thinner than satin frayed
Fluttering on; A butterfly's quaint
Still the light my life continues to sieve

Blight threatens to stay
Swimming under murky waters lain
Burning lungs pushing to heave

No more me;Of us you're all that remains.

Torn

Through the rain
Past the frigid cold
Of blood sweat and tears
Lay the open seas

Ground soaked red
Tirelessly to be tread
'Neath squelching boots
The whispers of the dead

So far away
Behind the curtain of piercing rain
Surrounded by swampy earth
Hidden from my blinded ears

Chase the mirage
Taunted by her smile
And her promise
To bring to me the open seas

Still the distance
It doesn't seem to shrink
Reeks of blood, sweat and tears
It's all I seem to see

Beauty

Beauty. Inner beauty. The loveliness of the soul/ The soft care and concerns as well as empathy of the heart. Noble notions of courage, valor, kindliness as well as strong moral values.

Outer beauty. The physical appeal that is most catchy to sight, sound as well as the touch. Soft skin, deep penetrating eyes, a gracefully sculpted body as well as a youthful appearance most deserving of praise.

One form is easily seen upon a person at a glance while the other calls for a clear sight and judgement not muddled by physical biasness. Only one of the two forces you to know the person thoroughly. Which is it?

By which of the two kinds of beauties do you pick your friends by? Need friendship be determined by the beauty of a person? Wherein lies the beauty of the truly beautiful?

Perhaps only in the moments in between in the heart of time. What can be more beautiful than a moment captured in time? What can be more beautiful than what you feel?

Love; Joy; Worry; Kinship and honesty. Perhaps what's more beautiful than things which can be seen(outer beauty) or understood(inner beauty)- is the beauty which we feel.

Many a time when we are enjoying ourselves, we forget all our troubles and all things appear that much more beautiful to us wthen. Elation is a strange phenomenon beyond description.It is neither visible nor understandable. Yet it is among the most beautiful of things we can ever find in our posession.

Sadness too is a beauty of its own unparalelled stature. It brings with it images of tears, rain and loss. It is more moving than any simple supermodel on a runway and deeper than any make up one could possibly wear. Sorrow, painful as iut may be, is still a beauty beyond imagination.

Righteous anger, is another experience beyond descript. It is an emotion that could overturn worlds and impress even the worse of enemies you may have. When your blood boils with it and passion burns in your eyes, none could deny your presence and attraction.

Emotional beauty. It is something that surpasses all that can be worn, seen or heard. It is an overflowing torrent of unexplainable urge. An urge to laugh; to cry; to scream and so on. Feelings. That's what it is.

"Why is it beautiful?" you may ask. Why is happiness such a beautiful thing? What is so great about being sad? Is there anything at all worth praising in anger? To answer these questions, you must first be aware of what true beauty is as well as what it does.

Do you know what true beauty really is? As you slowly digest what's been written here, have you been able to grasp the vage picture of what the essence of beauty really is?

Listen

Upon the wings of a zephyr
Rides the wisdom of the ages
Written with the ink of time
Dried in the light of the setting sun

Feel the echoes of the past
Hear of knowledge carved to last
Reverberating upon the trailing winds
The loud cries of eternity

Recorded upon the measured breeze
Slow down your search for release
Read the measured breaths of the day
Harken the laughter of the winds at play

The news of the present day
Gossips of weeks gone by
Tales of future on-coming
Riding upon the wind

All that need be done
Is but for man to listen

The useful and the useless

Mankind lives in a world full of all manner of things. There are some things they consider usefl; And then there are the things they consider to be otherwise.

The useful: These are things that help. Things that have the potential of aiding man in one way or another to achieve his goals.

The useless: These things have absolutely no value to mankind. Their existence is one that is without purpose or existential reason.

So the question is: " Why do the useless exist? "

Mankind was placed in this world naturally searching for a reason. From questions of why we are here to questions of the very nature of what here is.

Of course it is highly unlikely that men will ever learn the truth to everything.

The Druid - #3

The stench grew stronger as he approached the gathering storm clouds. A malignant odor so vile it burnt his lungs with each breath the elf turned wolf breathed hung in the air.

It had been close to three hours since he'd set off from his grove to investigate this most unnatural presence that had suddenly appeared up north.

As he approached the dark clouds, he caught sight of the source of the gloom.

Miles away, moved a silhouette of monstrous proportions. The bulky aberration lumbered along slowly, its huge stocky legs rocking the very ground with every step it took. Giant flaming vermillion eyes stared intently, radiating an aura of deathly cold hatred that sapped the life out of everything it touched.

The druid stopped in his tracks. A low menacing growl escaped his lips as he stared at the oncoming monster. Nothing stopped the creature or even seemed to slow it down. Trees fell, birds flew and creatures that could not escape were crushed under the weight of the monster or choked in the evil stench it exhuded.

The druid bowed down and sniffed the ground. With eyes closed, he opened his mind to the world sending his senses out of his body, merging with the very earth he touched.

He could see and sense the abomination more clearly now. The vile creature's deathly stench brought him to the point of almost puking. Its touch scalded the earth and sapped the life out of the ground it stood on. Its ebony skin was a twisted mockery of life, made up of millions of dead carcasses. Man and animal, rotting flesh, bone and maggot-ridden bodies all twisted and melded together into mangled heaps.

There before him, was a creature that defied all the laws of nature. There, before him was an undead monstrosity. And it was headed for the Woods of Vilsrough.

The druid pulled himself out of the grip of the spell. With a low growl, he spun back and started off at a sprint, Changing into a cheetah in midstride and bursting into a full run for the woods.

"May the lady's grace be with us."

#2<< >>#4

Our Home

The smoke that poisons the earth threatens to suffocate. A deadly blanket of thermal beauty beyond description, wielding as it does promises of mankind's undoing. A shadow so dark it is invisible. So terrifying it becomes captivating. It is a sea of clouds thick, invisible yet distantly tangible.

Each day grows warmer. EAch night treats itself to a growth of gases. The smog invisible, grows. It weighs itself down upon the skies. Onlookers only wonder, when will it be too much?

The seas it feeds. The mountains it drains. Lakes suffer under the weight of droughts it brings about. Rainstorms it sends spawning in some of the most unlikely of places during the least likely of times.

Its bane are the trees. The lush greenery of mother earth are the only form of defense against the oncoming onslaught of this most dangerous of foes. Yet, mother nature's guardians are being slain by the thousands for the greed of mankind.

What will happen to us?

Seeping Away

Beating of the clock
Counting seconds in stock
Leaping through moments
Tied down to memories

Flying through age
Sifting down feverish wisdom
The observer observed
Becomes an idiot

In a cloud of pain
Haze of love turned hate
In the heart of the crossfire
Hides empty divinity

Peering through tears
Listening to buzzing ears
The seer seen
Becoming prolific nothing

Where is the peace
That hides in smoky dreams
Ascension of hell-holed earth
Upon a spear of white ash

Walking in the rain
Hiding in shadows
Stepping upon slippery ground
Hoping to never be found

When the wise loses
And knows absolute nothings
Questions become the answer
Nothing becomes clear

Does it hurt
Being small as can be
Trailing under clouds grey
Hoping to go down with the spray

Where is the lightning
That threatens to strike
Rumbling in the sky
Calling out to me nigh

The clock continues
Wearily beating the seconds
Weighed down memories
Of how it used to be

The Bottle

Once upon a time, there was a bottle created of glass. And a beautiful bottle was he. Sleek and curvaceous, tall and slim. A container so lovely he could be only a dream.

The hands that created him gave him a purpose. His purpose was to contain.

What was his name? He called himself, Orange bottle. Orange bottle dedicated himself to the containment of orange juice and orange juice alone. He refused to hold anything else within him. So proud was he of being the only bottle to hold orange juice alone, unlike the other bottles around.

Yet one day, he found himself without any more orange juice to hold. He was empty. Orange juice bottle waited and waited. Yet not a single drop of orange juice even came close to him.

Day by day passed till a month was over. Months turned into years. Still nothing. Orange juice bottle remained dry as the desert. Till he could no longer take it anymore and he finally cried.

"What has happened to me? I can no longer serve my purpose in life anymore. Look at me oh great hands! What have I become? Not a single drop of orange juice have I found no matter where I look! Instead, you have left me with nothing but dust and cobwebs to hold!"

And he cried and cried for so long that all the other bottles gathered around him and asked what was the matter.

"The great hands have left me without a purpose to live with! Look at me! I am an Orange bottle. But I have no orang juice to hold! I feel empty. I have no reason to live anymore."

The other bottles, seeing truth in the words of Orange bottle and his presently empty state, set out in search of oranges. High and low did they search, exploring every nook and cranny imaginable. All to no avail. They all returned empty handed.

Seeing the hopelessness of his situation, Orange bottle cried even more. Until a small bottle spoke up from amid the throng of bottles that were there to comfort him.

A squeaky voice broke through the throngs. "But you aren't empty Orange bottle. Look at you. You are home to a spider. I'd think that you hold a life within you. One that is more precious than any amounts of Orange juice you could possibly hold."

The words of the tiny bottle struck a chord in Orange bottle and made him stop to think.

"A life?"

Again the little bottle spoke. "Why yes. That spider's chosen you to be his home. Is that not a worthy purpose to live by Orange bottle?"

For the first time in years, Orange bottle found himself no longer empty.

The useful and the useless

Mankind lives in a world full of all manner of things. There are some things they consider usefl; And then there are the things they consider to be otherwise.

The useful: These are things that help. Things that have the potential of aiding man in one way or another to achieve his goals.

The useless: These things have absolutely no value to mankind. Their existence is one that is without purpose or existential reason.

So the question is: " Why do the useless exist? "

Mankind was placed in this world naturally searching for a reason. From questions of why we are here to questions of the very nature of what here is.

Of course it is highly unlikely that men will ever learn the truth to everything.

So it is more than likely that we may never know if all things were created with good reason; Unless one puts great faith in God's plans.

In the eyes of the faithful, there is a reason for everything to exist. All things in this world has a use for mankind. It is just we who may not be wisened up to these hidden secrets.

This entire realm that God created for mankind presents us with many gifts. Some with uses clear as crystal, others with purposes hidden from us.

What use is the stars to us?

Do butterflies serve any purpose more practical than beautification?

Do roses do anything at all besides looking pretty?

Is looking good a useful or useless trait?

As time passes us by, man uncovers more of the ties that binds the world. The web of cause and effect is clearly in existence. But does it include all things in this world?

Are there objects or organisms that are removed from the web of cause and effect? If there are such things, are they useless?

We eagerly label things according to their usefulness judging them by the passing moments. How many among us realise though, that things change? How many of us realise that useful items can become useless in time and vice-versa?

Do we just throw aside things that lose their usefulness? Do we always set aside objects that may serve a purpose in the near future?

Or are we merely fools to think there are any distinctions between the useful and the useless at all?

Rebirth

Within starlight and darkness
Spread upon the universe empty
Foggy future is written
The story of my lightless future

Hail to the Lord of the lands
By whose hand all things move
Through Thy word does life revolve
As does mine itself resolve

Missteps that litter the journey
Mark the trails of human err
Millenia that pass us by
Echoing upon the strings of bardic fares

Accosted as the mind is
Swimming against the maelstrom
I tire and wear
With the end within sight

Hail to the Lord of the skies
By whose hand all things move
With Thy blessings I will learn
In Thy allowance I forget

Sponging up timelessness
Reading in the passing seconds
Books of sand trickle by
Into the watery depths of soul benign

Affronted by trails unbuilt
The outlook of which unseen
Digging against mountains stone
Searching for truths engraved in bones

Hail to the Lord of the seas
By whose hand all things move
Only Thou knows my heart and soul
Thou who knows all and more

The ocean's beating is lost
The cradle of the wind forgot
No feelings ever understood
For rationale itself cannot itself be undo

All is itself for lost
Time unbending its lust for decay
Quelled is man's hunger
When curiosity floods in darkness

Hail to the Lord of life and death
By whose hand all things move
By Thy word all came to be
To Thee will all return

The soul received at peace or torment
Decided will be with written truths
Deeds and knowledge all that remains
Rebirth, all that's left to gain

The Poet

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turn them to shapes, and gives airy nothing
A local habitation and a name

-William Shakespeare

Tender is the art of creation that occurs in the minds of men. Wreathed as it is in an invisible curtain of logic and belief, the mind and the soul is the clay of the poet's words.

He builds you, moulds you and crafts your dreams in ways you would never have thoughts possible.

Have you ever read a poem that made you cry? Or come across a story that touched your heart and gave you the shivers?

That is the power of the poet. He creates. He changes. He reveals within emptiness a form bright as the moon or darker than the night. All with the simple touch of a pen.

How much are you willing to give in exchange for sight beyond sight and vision of all things hidden behind the veil of the average human comprehension?

What would you give to be a poet?

Blood

Revenge: An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth and blood for blood. For pain there needs to be payback. Retribution will present itself.

Have you ever been hurt so bad you wished you could die? Have you ever been put through so much pain you can no longer feel anymore?

Do you know of pain that floods you through your bones and courses deep into your soul? Have you ever felt the pain of loss and heartbreak beyond compare? When someone close is taken away from you and all you can do is look on. Just watch while a stranger - an outsider- steals all you hold dear from under your nose.

As the pain sinks into you and buries itself deep within the recesses of your mind, all you could do is watch in helplessness. The fires of hope and joy flicker away. The light of your life is gone. In its place is a cold burning darkness. Emotions beyond description assail you. Your mind reeling from the confusion. So much pain. So much sadness. Unbearable.

You shy away from it. You hide away from the pain. Smother it under the fiery heat of hatred and vengeance. Someone must pay. Someone will pay.

Whoever it is matters not in the least. He/she was the one responsible for your pain and loss. That is what's most important.

He will pay for his wrong-doing. Justice will be meted out. You will be sure of that.

When You Went Away

I thought
Really I did
With all my heart
I totally dreamed
It was all in my head
Then everything shattered
Now everything's dead

But wisdom made its call
Age was my saving grace
I saw without
A light so vague
Then I understood
This was all nothing
Just a passing phase

Convinced
Nothing short
With all my strength
Hard as I could I fought
For the good of all
For my perceptions
I crushed my bounds

No more me
No more we
Just a you
A simple they
The rest of the world
The way it should be
Against simple old me

Matters no more
There's none
Worries don't exist
Just an endless chore
Step upon step
Never ending

It's tiring
Verily so
Though I know
Still hard to let go
No helping it
Gone in the breeze
Leaving me to freeze

The Unquenchable Thirst

The unquenchable thirst: Do you have it?

What is it?

It is a need. One that requires constant attention. An obsession so subtle it is almost unnoticable. An unquenchable thrist.

Everyone has it.

There are things we can't live without. Whose existence becomes the fuel that feeds the flames of life. Things without which we would die.

The question is: What are they?

What are things that keep us alive? Could they be air, food, water? Is that all?

Then again, what would life be like without a place to stay? So maybe we should include a shelter;a home.

Even then, what meaning would life hold without companionship? A person could go crazy living all alone. One needs family and friends too.

And what of safety and comfort? Dangerous surroundings and lack of proper comfort tends to shorten the lifespan of a person. We may as well include safety and comfort in the list of things we need.

What about joy? We can't live in sadness and gloom all our lives can we?

Let's see - air, food, water, home, friends, family, safety, comfort, joy...

Can you think of anything else we need? Or rather, anything else you'd want to have. How long does the list go on?

Of all these things, which among them is in truth unnecessary? Are there things we made necessary due to the fact that it brings comfort?

Can we live without a home? Whatneed have we for friends? Why must we have comfort? Is joy really important at all?

Do we need love?

A wanderer lives without a home does he not? A hermit has little need for friends. A lost survivor makes do with whatever little comfort he finds around. And most of us lead less than totally joyous lives.

Does anyone live without knowing love?

Do you know your unquenchable thirst?

A Little Madness

Would you understand the deranged ramblings of a mad-man?

And if you did, would that make you a mad-man too?

The mind is perhaps the strangest realm one could live in. It may as well be the most normal too. They say you could only believe what you see with your own two eyes. Yet one should also be aware that you only see what you choose to see.

Could you comprehend a mad-man if you choose to? Would you understand him if you want to? If I told you magic is a possibility, would you believe me? Were I to say the wind has a mind of its own would you disagree?

People live their lives rooted to a single form of reality. Logic rules their world. Certain self-proclaimed laws hold their imagination in place. And as long as they remain rooted down to these frigid corners of existence, normality would always retain its form.

The mad-man defies the norms of practically everyone else. So if you see things the way he does, you have gone mad too, wouldn't you think? The mind of the warped changes the laws of the norm. It sees all things differently. It understands all things differently.

Yet, if you think deeper into things, everyone sees and thinks uniquely. Up to a certain degree of course. Are we all just crazy in our own ways?

As the saying goes,there's a little madness in all of us.

The Gravedigger

Beyond the reach of the sun
Lies a world beyond reach of time
Pummeled by layers of dirt
A realm so small in girth

Dig dear friend dig
Unearth thy little world
Thy time hath come to open
The gates await another to enter

Upon sunbaked grounds thy stand
Within soaking rain thou work
With pick, spade and hoe
Thy wear but a passing woe

"Hail dear Lord
Thou believers doth await Thee
We come one by one
To Thy realm away from the sun

To the calling of the angel
Whose word doth death abide
Whose will is a testament
Of God's ultimate might"

Dig dear friend dig
Face Mecca Thou work will be
For another who waits reprieve
Whose time has come for worldly release

"To Him they will return
Once sentence hath been served
Timely whippings from angel fierce
Or kindly dotings from heavenly love

One by one they're prepared
For homes deep seven steps
My hands dirtied for a holy cause
The closing chapter of the soul's divorce

Goodbye dear servant of God
Thy time hath come to pass
I close thine ties to here onwards
Look back not to the past"

Work that is never-ending
Till all men have fallen through
A job few would like to do
But for a selected crew

Dirty as it may be
A cause it is most worthy
Thine work hides all disease
Under columns wide three feet

Mine thanks to thee dear friend
For when mine time is through
Mine grave thou dig for me
Here I come to life there-after

"Hail to Thee Lord Almighty
Thy blessings to the dead
May I be among them one day
Saved from Thy fiery hell

For time will come for me to go
When my job is through and gone
Another will be called to bury mine corpse
The gravedigger soul divulged"