The Sense Of Meeting You
The smell of irises, of promise, scented as the wind blows along your scalp, waving your hair.
You’re about 4 meters away, at the other side of the pillar supporting the ceiling above us, yet I sniffed it. A scent that I love, one that I’ve been looking for.
The wind whispers a soft music to my ears, and beats up my heart.
I turned, looking for the wonderful scent, and by the end of the gazebo, there you stand.
I saw stars twinkle in the morning breeze, looking at the scenery of the park. It was so beautiful that it gleams my heart passing through my throat. How peaceful it feels looking at your eyes that compliment your smile.
I held your fingers on mine, and you flinched. I’m sorry for startling you.
“You’re so beautiful,” I muttered to your hand, kissing it. I smiled as I saw your dimples go deeper.
Your hands are soft like a touch of spring, gentle, mild, and full of life. It felt like silk, so smooth that I felt like not letting go of it. You put it down slowly as I let go smoothly, brushing my fingers at the tips of yours.
“Thank you fine man,” you giggled.
"What might your name be?" was all I can think of saying. "How about yours?" Was your reply. You never really answered my question, but I answered yours.
"What should I call the beauty I discovered at the start of my day?" I asked, again for your name.
"If we meet again, I’ll tell you. Goodbye good sir, I hope we’ll meet again." These words you left me, thus I smiled, holding a pursuit of beauty; a beauty at my full content.
The truth will ever be harsh, though we shan’t lose hope.
In that truth never actually stand with hope, but hope is in moving on, and the acceptance of the truth.
And rather I be harsh too, in thou shalt hear it, that thy pot be hot, yet held by hand.
Some scent might lie, the sweet aroma, so gentle, so mild; yet in sight tells otherwise, of brute, hate, and chaos.
Though likewise, rather than otherwise, if sight would lie; listen, breathe, and feel, that truth be of help, though not of pure hope.
It is the horror of our fears, the smile of our sadness.
It’s the touch to our pain, and the irony of a winning surrender.
It is the blindness that we hear, by the sight that we seek.
Thou choose to live then or now, it wouldst not care. It either drains life, or breathes it.
Truth by nature, if ever will it exist, does not make sense; unless the moment shall give for it.
Right or wrong, it does not go by.
No matter correct we aim, our truth will always be what we believe in.
Tell The Truth Creatively
If you don’t want to lie
but can’t tell the truth completely
It will be the one who listens
who will fault for his wrong understanding
You will not bend it
yet you’ll intervene
It will be your art
as you tell your truth creatively
Not all art are good for some
yet some might be good for all
If ever this truth be fault for all
then you must have lied — and it’s not creative truth
You can’t be blamed for leaving out details
They should have asked specifically!
You only told the truth
in a way you wanted to express it
If you’re a thought that lived for more than a thousand years, you’ll think at least once about dying. A thought that goes on with this world living in different bodies that die, but you don’t. At childhood you’ll be innocent again, yet when it all comes back, you’ll know more than anyone does. At teenage, people might think you’re young, not knowing that you’re older than them. It will suck that they’ll treat you as your physical age, but you’ll just have to live with it. You’ll think about death as a goal that you’ve lived enough, but at the same time you won’t want it for the world changes and has a lot more to offer. Of course, new things will bore you for you have encountered them many times, still you know that there’s more and you’ll just have to wait for them. Being a thought is more difficult than just being human. Be proud of being a physical entity knowing when to just stop.
We’re like playing charades that we want to tell something, but can’t say it directly, so we use and leave signs instead. The only difference is that we don’t ask about what each other’s message is portraying, in which we confirmed nothing. We get a hint of what we both want to say, but we never confronted for confirmation. It’s like we only got one guess that we are afraid of getting the wrong answer. Will we ever express ourselves to each other if we stay this way?
Now we both build our own fortress
Not facing each other,
Instead, facing opposite directions.
Who are we fighting?
The one behind each other.
Canyons facing opposite directions
Hoping to hit the enemy
Across the world to their backs.
How far does each blow go?
How big is the world it travels?
One might not know
And he knows the other is behind
But he does not know an easier way to hit
Or he really wants it the difficult way
Of all the things to take, I taste the sweetest pain
When all regrets of regret has come to end, but with a forever start
And the glory of the night, was the break of day
I heed not of your mercy, but of and angelic descend
When all of things you’d seem to kill
And cries of laughter are worth no feel
Breathe each day like life’s embrace
The irony of her, as I hang by foot
To kill with birth, as to be born by murder
Like the deceit of truth, and the honesty of lies
You’ll stay and stay,as she holds you close
Yet at the same time you’ll stay while you pull yourself away
And comes a day that you’ll joy with pain
As to die your self once, with the sadness freedom brings
It is with all my might to keep my strength and carry on, while carrying this pain deeply in my heart. I keep living with the irony of talking to you; the pain that it gives me and the joy of hearing your voice. It is a world in which I don’t know where to stand.
That when people are just waiting for you to be at your weakest, give them your trust, and they’ll just break you. Everything will fall. All of your hard-work and efforts will all be wasted. It will end, but the only thing you should do is start off again. You can either stay in that grave pit, or move on and start anew, and I tell you, don’t stay in the pit.