Boundaries

It’s been a while since I last took up this pen.

I had wanted to wait a bit before I decided on the course of action.

There’s this fence that is often built around one. The fence initially does not exist. There was no reason for this structure to be built. It is through the experiences and events that take place, where one sees a fence slowly take shape.

At first, it may have been just a sliver of inches; similar to the newly grown grass that takes bloom as Spring descends. It grows steady and in color. Green as can be, as it slowly takes on a life of it’s own. Starting out fresh in scent; with it sparkling in the sun because of it’s unfamiliarity.

As more events take place, the height ascends. At times slower than the rest – knowingly boundaries have to be built, but only a millisecond at a time. Other times, those events wreck havoc, and the height skyrockets. The grass begins wilting, but continues it’s ascent.

Over time, this fence changes. It had started as grass, easy to cut; easy to maintain. But one day, this grass fades, and wooden boards take it’s place. Like a tree’s trunk, it is solid and without waver. It stands strong against the winds and waves. The oak becoming aged, but the stability stronger. It does not ever change shape, because there is not much that erodes the core of it’s base. It remains as is, a ring around that one.

Listening to the thoughts of others makes it obvious how cautious or carefree one truly is. There are some whom are filled with cheerful laughter, spontaneous interactions, and above all – radiance in knowing the grace of this world and it’s beauty.

Then there are the others.

Those whom had seen much before the rest of us. They have experienced the lows and the highs (though not as frequent). Their thoughts are clear as mud. Not easily influenced as they hold onto the crux of their soul; seemingly defined from a delicate age, and crafted through the hands of others.

Learn to be positive, they say.

What if that was never a trait to be encompassed by that one?

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You’ve only one life to live, why make it as unhappy as you do?

 

Remainder

It’s seemingly in times where I do not know where to turn, I turn to my hands. These hands that have started out small, on the ground, as I was learning to crawl. These hands that slowly lifted themselves off the ground and instead aimed for the skies. As I went through life and realized, one’s works are most prized of all – I put them to work; night and day I churned them. When they were not holding pens, pencils, calculators, mouses, or tapping away at black, white, or electronic keys – they were found grabbing food to fill my hunger. Hunger that was only temporary and momentous, before being filled, and then back to work.

Those days of where busy-ness seemed to litter every corner of my life. As I worked for myself, but most of all – my family. They were the ones I was around when I came into this Earth. Everything I try for, they are among those whom I think about the effects that affect upon. But doesn’t it feel as if you are bound down when you realize your limits, though for an aim, are restrained to a certain extent as you take other considerations into play, when making decisions.

So tiring. Where were those days when everything was constant, with unlimited uncertainty. I found solace in those moments. As I took every step with those around me, the consistency was comfort as I knew there were no farewells to be said. Being easily accustomed to the presence is a curse in some ways. As they move on, you remain there. But with the lingering sense that haunts one for quite a while. The lighthouse, the captain. Do they frequent enough in my heart for this void to be sealed away, until the return?

Claude Monet – Secret Garden

These 38 paintings. The largest exhibition in North America. They are here. Until a certain end date, as all things seem to approach, at one point or another.

Come.

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Remind me of where I’ve been

Without You

Taken as an excerpt from the one who feels lost amongst all

Have you ever had that feeling where you are so fixated on one object, you lose motivation to think about anything else?

That’s consumption done right.

There’s no need for desire of anything else. Your thoughts are consumed. You wish you could think about any or everything else; it’s seemingly locked down though. Everything suddenly revolves around this one.

Drained. Tired. Ineffectually helpless.

This is a new feeling for me.
Is this another one of those experiences where you overcome it and become a
stronger person?

Through the fire
I’ll persevere
I won’t submit to any fear
Where I’ll go you’ve been before
All my trust is in you Lord

Hold me close, Lord. Keep me sane.

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All I need is you, Lord. Let me cling onto you as desperately as I may this week.

Care

You realize life’s many waves.

One moment you may be happy and carefree, knowing all is well. The next, you realize there are many shatters beneath the top; waiting to surface in those unpredictable moments. Why is it so hard for us to cling onto happiness and comfort?

Seeing you through the lens of this which I’ve called my own and destined for capturing those around me, I was happy. But as one retreated into the depths, there was no solace remaining.

Can you see? Or can you merely realize. Those who do not have, always pick out the gaping hole in that which they have. But those who have, never fully realize the extent of the value they hold. Lucky, aren’t they?

As the days go by, and the many setting of the sun’s, accompanied by the rises. Will I be the one who forgoes the desire that so easily roots and stems itself within me? Why do I let this pod take place, when I already know of it’s many disappointments and voids that it has frequented in the past?

Maybe it’s because my remembrance is fleeting, while my memories dwell. Memories that I let linger through the many captures that I take on a daily basis. Memories that engrain themselves within me, with the subject’s presence abiding; without permission, but encompassing reluctance.

He wanted people to like his mind again – after awhile it might be such a nice place in which to live.

This Side of Paradise. 

  • Fitzgerald

The mind is the dominating organ that intrigues me; above all else. Like a friend once mentioned, it is also the organ that can come to odds with your faith. Do you let this come between you and what your soul rests in, or do you choose to walk away? Isn’t it peculiar how one does not want to be questioned or left behind, but also cares for those whom she places her utmost respect in – to even want to obtain certainty from; those she realizes the displeasure that may result.

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Someone far and locked up, may you find your own

What You Remind Me Of

“I saw you as a nice and pretty girl”.

It’s funny how sometimes what others say, can have an enormous impact on you.

I remember the first time I met you. You came, as if the wind had blown you in. Hair was disheveled, with a lopsided scowl on your face. You did not seem as if you wanted to be there; but were instead forced to.

Your voice is young. The words you use were coarse, but truthful. You encouraged us to try our best. And when the time approached – you disappeared just a few seconds tad of early.

I wanted you to be mine. I was glad, because I had you with me. I didn’t see much of anything, except through the eyes of you.

But sometimes, what we forget is that love is Him. He gave us everything in exchange for our love. But we didn’t carry through. And yet, time and time again, He forgives. He forgives because He loves us enough; and even more.

I believe I am weak when it comes to lust. I am weak when it involves my emotional side in taking over the logical side of myself. I miss you when I am happy. I miss you when I am sad. And I especially miss you when I am lonely.

But why depend on earthly beings to satisfy our loneliness, lack of happiness, and fill the void of our sadness? Humans at times, can be too in touch with their emotional lack of fulfillment – to the point of where they forget where they came from; of what love is. Who it is.

A prosodiac. A coffee addict. How opposite they can be.

A new beginning.

All Over

There was endless questioning and searching for a tiny bit about you. It was unnecessary now that I look back.

For this obsessive probing was so distant in nature. You ended up not being impressed by my spontaneity and also my questions. It is funny that for some, they are happy with my inquiries, whereas others find it to be intrusive.

I think you were rather gentlemanly. Your quaint smile and eyes of being inviting, yet guarded.

I wish you better luck this time. Xx

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Let Me In

Yet another time comes by where it seems I can’t focus on much. I can’t accomplish much without having to be distracted by a fleeting thought of “What is your name?”. Has this happened to me before? Yes, actually – quite recently, in the July of this year. It seems the cycle is not lengthening as it has in the past, but it has become such of a shorter routine. I have come to become quite easily mesmerized; quite simply because of traits I vie for in myself, but have often come short of.

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This moment – which I will come to describe, is quite paradoxical really. I have always done this to someone else, yet I have never come to experience it myself.

Seeing you out of the corner of my peripheral vision, I contemplated whether it would be surprising for me to speak to you. For when I spoke to him this year, it took my utmost amount of courage I had conjured up – yet when I was faced with the same decision yesterday, I could not do it. Possibly it was also because of the mood I was in – moody, indecisive, and longing for more.

You sat behind me. I looked far into the skies and the trees, seeming to search for more. Where I looked, you also saw. When I hastily looked away from inside the passenger’s seat, you followed suit. You seemed to trace every sight I lay my eyes upon. Your scent was not sweet, nor was it savoury. Not even an inch close to what he once smelled like. You had your own unique scent that was.

For when I pulled the cord to signal my departure – I was a bit hoping you would also take the same descent as me. I had no courage to look behind me – to see whether you were following me out. I have become one that is more cowardice than vice. Either it be that I am growing up, or that I have become much less passionate to chase what I want; I only regret not taking that chance.


What is your name? 

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