What is a treasure?
Is it in a form of diamond and gold?
Is it the crown and jewelry?
Is it the long-forgotten family heirloom?
Is it the children in the family?
Is it the home to return to?
Is it the connection between relatives?
Is it a peaceful loving community?
Whatever the treasure is,
It lies in the eyes of the beholder,
A treasure worth to die for,
And to live forever with.
In a bubble trapped and suffocating,
A persistent dark spot on a canvas,
A subject of drawing unwanted eyes,
Being the distasteful joke material,
Yet none understand the situation,
The daily deep layers of the struggle,
To live and breathe in the sickening plague,
Constantly clinging to the idea,
The idea and dream of a safe place,
Without days driven to insanity,
Without the thoughts of negativity,
Without the desire of jumping off,
Wars of arguments without a winner,
The nonexistent art of common sense,
The broken and failed communication,
The ignorant and self-serving circle,
There is no kind and caring words to say,
Only the sick lingering bitterness.
I’ll listen to every sad song,
So I could feel the weight,
In each of the words,
The singers have to say,
I’ll listen to every sad song,
So I could understand,
The feeling that consumes me,
And not to feel alone,
I’ll listen to every sad song,
So I could tell myself,
To be strong,
To feel the strength in me,
I’ll listen to every sad song,
So I can enjoy all the gloomy days,
And stand up again,
After the tears dried.
Don’t ask me if I’m fine,
Open up your arms,
Accept me in your embrace,
Offer me a shoulder,
Let me rest and cry,
All my heart out,
Lend me your ears and time,
So I could pour everything,
Let everything loose,
Unshackled and unbound,
Light and unload.
He always waited for the sun to rise,
Staying awake and wait until the dawn,
As the sun standing up melting the ice,
His soul is still frozen wearily worn,
When the sun rest perfectly shadowless,
He roamed the land planting seeds begging hopes,
Until the sun slowly retreating down,
The ice savagely bites him once again.
Take your steps,
Pace and slowly,
Or how ever you want it,
Your body and soul,
Is your sole responsibility,
No one is there,
When you need to heal,
Take your steps,
Pace and slowly,
You can’t compare yourself,
To those who lives,
In the fast lane,
They start with wheels,
You started bare,
Take your steps,
Pace and slowly,
You made yourself enough.
It is true when they said, no one knows for sure. The future is unwritten, and only God knows. And some people trample over these unknown uncertainties.
Yet, I am sure and certain. To the utmost belief that the path toward the future is walked today. The pavement toward the future is built in the present. The planning, the budget, and the construction at work. Then, the completion. The journey is long and challenging. The plan might have amendments, the budget needs adjustments, and the construction faced a lot of difficulties.
What makes it is perseverance and determination. The patience and resilience to keep on going with a clear objective. Carried over in each step. I have seen them carrying their hopes and dreams. They reached their goals and start a new chapter in their life. They leveled up. They moved up a ladder. They are walking proof.
They carved their future.
I want to remember,
How it feels to be touched,
How it feels to be connected,
How it feels to be intimate,
I want to remember,
The warmth between the skin,
The beating symphony of hearts,
The tingling sensation in each touch,
I want to remember,
The tense sensation,
The intense stare,
The gasp for breath,
I want to remember,
Before all these fragments,
Disintegrate into the air,
And left to feel nothing.
He is not mysterious,
Nor he wants to be,
He is mostly reserved,
Hiding behind a silhouette,
He has much to say,
Yet spoken shortly with emojis,
He is nothing,
But a lost soul,
He sees the goal,
But walking in a crumbled path,
He is a man,
Deprived of everything.
I need a little inspiration,
To write a couple of lines,
I need a huge distraction,
To keep me out of my mind,
Playing with my thoughts,
Save me from the intrusion,
The harder I try to stop,
The louder the commotion,
I try to keep my eyes open,
Be aware of my surrounding,
Yet my reality is shattered and broken,
Gasping for a recipe from dying,
Maybe the words, maybe the rhymes,
Maybe it’s just I’m counting time.
Write Ally! Write! 