Mind Matters

I don't ever remember reflecting so deeply as a child. The carefree and fleeting thoughts seem so desirable now, but the grown mind can't find its way back down the convoluted path to that pretty candy cane home. The mind was a safe and clear place back then; but now having realised its infinite capacity, it gives the owner a sense of travelling down a black vortex for every thought that seeps in from the outside. Its spaces are both lonely and scary to venture into, yet ironically, equally gravitating. Sometimes it feels like there's a fuse that could blow off without a red sign. So I try sleeping it off, because when I wake my thoughts are either empty or busy calculating dreams.

Silent Screams

When she emerged from her mother's womb, they shed tears. Tears of joy, for it was a child they had all longed for. But slowly as they uncovered her and did not see in view that manly shaft, they got angry. They glared and groaned, shattered her mother, if only they knew that X chromosome came from that wicked father, they might have loved her more. Devoid of care and love, she grows strong within, fed enough to survive, sheltered enough to rise to the world that never really cares. They don't know what she's capable of, they undermine her faithful heart. She still carries on with the hope that one day she will rise like a phoenix from her remains of what they left of her. But then comes in another of their kind, forgetting that he ever left a mother and sister behind. He gives her that look which she knows isn't right, but despite struggling with all her might, her screams go unheard. He has the demon vested in him, his mind hosts thoughts that emanate from sick desires, half-knowledge and only given impetus by current predicaments. Her humble heart that screams, her infant face that shrieks, none are enough to make him change his mind. He believes he was born to own her, destroy her. It is our silence that makes him think so.

Up For Grabs?

I'd write, if I could. Write about it all. All those feelings. All those moments. All those desires and needs. About high mountain top expeditions, and staring far out at the clouds, wishing for a drop of rain and hope. The heart knows not what it wants and all the soul wants is to reach out and grab what it knows to be its own. That which has always belonged, but never really been possessed. A changing season, a skipped heartbeat, the union of souls, the heightened spirit.