If colour was rich,
You’d be chasing rainbows.
Endlessly seeking,
A flickering pot of gold.
Fire was your name,
Insatiable and alive.
Your candle burned bright,
Yet went up in trailing smoke.
Writings of a Phobophobe.
If colour was rich,
You’d be chasing rainbows.
Endlessly seeking,
A flickering pot of gold.
Fire was your name,
Insatiable and alive.
Your candle burned bright,
Yet went up in trailing smoke.
Failed pretty;
Loved ugly.
Drowned in idealism;
Engulfed in fear.
Mustered strength;
Awoken senses.
Smiled in pain;
Albeit crying in love.
She could not capture when
Or how it came from the shadows,
That the brightness in his eyes;
The saturation of his skin,
Became highlights she wanted to see the most.
Like sunrise,
I’d trust you lead and shine light.
I’d have no fear in the darkest of nights.
Like waves,
You’d lift me, bring me along, or to shore.
Cyclical, rhythmic, calm and more.
Like rain,
You’re okay to let me see your mess,
Dream with me for rainbow even when chances are less.
Like sunset,
We’d hold space for us to unwind.
Even when you’re not the brightest, I wouldn’t mind.
A reminder to myself to not give at half full.
Fill up your courage cup,
And come back to give from a better place.
A place of abundance.
12am: Go to bed.
2am: I pray for faith.
4am: I dreamt of you.
6am: You’re not here yet.
8am: The heart’s yearning.
10am: You never came.
–
I guess the angels took you
As you’re needed where they are.
Perhaps I deserve this hurt
Because I had a piece of heaven.
But bless me so
Let me sleep better with each passing night.
Me in your arms,
Always lifted me to the stars.
With each false alarm,
It left me numerous scars
It seems this time left no qualms,
I’m afraid of when you will be very far.
Holding on to the line of the balloon always seemed easy until distractions happen and we let go of it unknowingly.
Is it meant to be attached by the wrist or do we allow it freedom to drift off to the city of lights?
Life’s greatest works deliver
Meanings temporal and eternal.
On the facade,
We carve our paths.
On the polish wheel,
We refine our skills.
Set out with an intention,
Imperfect and learning;
Yet upon completion,
Profound and stunning.
The same is to be said
Of our life endeavours.
Purposefully wander,
For every step is a wonder.
Time shalt pass,
Old age will come.
Like the Grecian urn
With truth between its arms.
Silent and passionate,
For it does not speak.
Classical and timeless,
For it holds true meaning of beauty.
Life is running into a whole bunch of uncertainties, one after another, and forcing ourselves to decide what we’re going to do about each of them. We stop growing once we decide not to face that uncertainty – or not deciding – ever again.