I awoke in dreamlike haze, seeping through the silk drapes the setting sun drenched the room in its light. Light rain drizzled on, the soft wind whispered. History had been written, the bullet had been shot, the train was quickly leaving the station, had it ever stopped?
And in a second it’ has all changed, everything.
The sky above is grey, dark clouds weep tears, it has a magical quality of drenching everything around it, the blossoms and the trees, in its all encompassing misery. Though, it is not total misery, it is a slow, numbing virus that eats away at ones self.
My old soul creaks under the weight of the ticking seconds, the darkness that engulfs me.
An iced coffee sits in front me it drips on the table, whiskey stings my throat. The windows are open and the silk drapes are caught in a gentle breeze, the clouds are grey. Rain drizzles down the window pane to the melody of faint music.
Another day racing beyond my grasp. Notebooks scatter in front of me, fleeting emotions captured, pulled apart and disposed of.
I haven’t been writing as much as I would like to. I almost feel disappointed in myself. I had promised to start writing a book, I got past the first paragraph, then the first page, then the fifth, though after that words fell apart. Just like life, i’m good with the introduction, i’m good with dreaming and ideas, though when it comes to reality, what should happen next, my fabricated wall of day dreamed lies fall apart and the harsh reality drowns me.
I might go for a walk later, get a coffee, watch people pass me by.
My coffee blog – Uno Cappuccino
The sun set drenching the room in its light. The old floorboards creaked under her feet as she walked to the window, pulling the silk drapes down.
She had not left the house for many weeks and the passing of time had lost all meaning.
The people in her life where resembling shadows and shadows do not leave much to miss. They seem to stand silently beside you, offering you a glimpse of the person, yet when dark times inevitably fall they vanish.
The more she learnt of truth, she realised all she knew was lies.
“When you have come to the edge Of all light that you know And are about to drop off into the darkness Of the unknown, Faith is knowing One of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly”
The sun has set and the dark night creeps in, children play on the street.
I sit in the dimly lit room, candle light flickers against the bare white walls. Tears form in my eyes until they cascade down my cheeks. I try to connect, I am trying, I cry out loud “please help, please give me the strength”. I walk my days at times with the world weighing on me, the passing traffic of people flood me with their grief and pain. How do I learn to close myself to others emotional baggage? I can hardly walk in the city at times, panic attacks strike me, I forget how to breath, how to walk, who am I?
Where has compassion gone? Many say oh it is still there, yet at times I fail to see it. The passing people consumed in their own world, what they are having for lunch, what they are going to do tomorrow, the next day and the next.
We judge others simply for their beliefs not on the merit of being a good person despite their god or way of worship. Why is it so hard for people to see through that? Ignorance blinds, deafens and kills.
Cicadas screech in the humid air, across the horizon the city brushes the heavens, in the corner of my room bags sit, half packed. The setting sun filters through the silk drapes, illuminating the room in its life. I gaze at the bags, they are in some ways my safety net. All my belongings can fit in to them, easily dragged behind me through the sprawling airports across the globe.
Peace, in the sense of the absence of war, is of little value to someone who is dying of hunger or cold. It will not remove the pain of torture inflicted on a prisoner of conscience. It does not comfort those who have lost their loved ones in floods caused by senseless deforestation in a neighboring country. Peace can only last where human rights are respected, where people are fed, and where individuals and nations are free. – The XIVth Dalai Lama
I hold in my hand a new book, at the back of the crowded bus I secretively sniff the pages as the hot evening sun filters through the windows and the faint moon patiently waits in the cloudless sky. This moment in time now carved into my past along with the countless other daily emotions I experience.
In my 18 years of life, from concious memory – I remember no time without terrorists, wars, bombings, conflicts, tears, pain and immense global suffering. At this very second I feel so far removed from it all, walking through the humid air of the evening, yet it is all around me. From the violence and sufferings that has happened in my own life, I have learned if not one thing; this too shall pass.
Change is ever present and all around us, it is the only constant and inevitable cycle.
To change something on such a global spectrum will take time, yet ticking time goes by so fast. Not just time, it will also take people to wake up, to stand up and and to speak the truth – and it will probably not be said through words.
“Personal growth has its price, and she was paying it without complaint.” – Paulo Coelho, Veronika Decides to Die
Cicadas screech in the humid air, jolting me back to existence. Footprints of my journey cast into the white sands, the gentle tides washes them away. I am at a point in my life where there is great change, new beginnings and a universe of lessons.
Many of my days are spent floating in and out of conciousness, at times the black hole of the city swallows me whole.