One Step Closer

Yes, today as always for each passing year is the day of you and me. Perhaps you already walk beyond the heaven, while I keep walking under the same sky that we shared before that time came. I shall not call your name, nor shall you should call mine – since that is one of those promises.

Each year I wrote just for our promises, that perhaps my mortal mind & memory shall forget your voices or how your smile were gentling my heart; but my existence is a single prove that you was here, stand by my side – walk a single voice together.  Continue reading →

Iklan

Love at First Sight

It has to be an eternal question to any soul that filled with curiosity about the “thing” that we know as love. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” – If I were offered with that kind of question, I would humbly reply, “Do you?” Put it in simple deductions, if you ever felt it, it might be true – if you never had it, it doesn’t mean never exist at all; as so the opposite, if you ever felt it, beware, it might not be the love you really tough of.

For me, to put it simply, it would be a “No,” I don’t put believe in such a thing.

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Infinite White

Don’t talk about the form, don’t speak of the color, since the infinite is untouchable, since the purity isn’t a gesture. To find the formless behind the form is to find nothing at all, and there would be no finding at all, there would be no action with a purpose, since purity has no map to guide to.

Life flowing its own form, and its own nature. You may try to figure it out, but all the figuring would meet a wall, a boundary called limitations. An act with purpose – to figure – only a start to reach a limitations.

Purity doesn’t has purpose. Purity is everything without a coursed path, there is no path either to reach purity. It is the infinite where stillness dance beautifully. It is the infinite white, the formless beyond the form. It’s a great move without motive.

I am a small bud of freedom

Rising under the first morning mist, I am a small bud of freedom. Come upon the labyrinth of winds, meet between hopes and life, I am a small bud of freedom. The morning dew which releasing all chain of past, I am a small bud of freedom.

The very breath itself is freedom, the flowing life is freedom, the silent cloud above the stillness is freedom – then the sky reach its’ end. Then again, I am a small bud of freedom.

A Vague Writing

Writing doesn’t always need a reason, a purpose, a target, nor a meaning. Writing doesn’t always a firm & strict form where we can manage everything according some codes or norms. Writing doesn’t have to bring out a mission, nor bring about public opinions.

Writing can be simply put as a flowing water in a mere personification.

It doesn’t need to be clear so every thought can simply understand. There is nothing absolute about understanding how we flow within this river of life. But once a soul flows, it shall pour everything – all its existence – to the very last, then one can found one self being mirrored by a vague writing. Its nothing, yet everything that one has ever had.

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And The Life Meets its’ End

I just have a walk this afternoon and met an ordinary life event. Nothing special at all, but I just loved to take a note from it. Life is so fragile, but that fact bring about a simple realization if one can simply touch the very life it self.

Everything has its’ beginning and somehow it shall met its’ end, well we maybe not so sad since we have no bound to the very life that has lost. But when a journey of someone close in our life was ended, we might suffered a great feel of losing.

If we feel the same for every life form on this earth, maybe we have the same colour of breath and soul as for all the living things. It is simple, so we met the same death as how we see it through every moment and time that already ended, and we may have no rejection again what that a lot of people fear of – death.

Does the rain make you wistful?

If I sat one afternoon in which heavy rain falls. Maybe I’ll let the inner me to pause for a moment of silence. My concern can be absolutely nil. And if you tried to call, maybe I will not answer. I brought down to earth with rain in the afternoon. My voice is a patter that can not be detained any longer in the air.

Rain brings the life spirits back to our mother earth, and inside every single patter – is none but me without a name. Rain brings abundant of energy back to our homeland, but some maybe doesn’t sense it and yet a melancholy memory might arise.

Well, its okay. But lets lose our burden, lets open our heart, let the mind be still, and we shall dance within the rain.