Idea of Tomorrow


Time doesn’t stop for anyone, the sun will manage to rise every day, the earth will keep revolving, and for all you know many days, you will be stuck in a particular time, refusing to budge, refusing to acknowledge the existing changes revolving your mere existence. Time doesn’t stop, no. But every once in a while, we stop living.
You may feel the realm of possibilities coming to an end in that one moment, but that moment doesn’t stop anything, it doesn’t change anything. It just digs a hole big enough inside you, to find a way to bury itself within, so you may find a way to remember it, cherish it, accuse it, and analyze it, but you never get a chance to recover from it.
Putting one foot in front of the other is easy, but taking a step towards something that holds a chance to overwhelm you, will always make you hesitate, make you tremble a little, not knowing that this might be the chance to learn to breathe again, because in that instant, all you can think about is what you’re leaving behind, a trail of memories, of cherished recollections and lessons learned. And all that you need, all you can seem to want in that particular moment is, an acknowledgement big enough to signify your existence as a part of something more that the world can recognize, because there’s a time, a moment, a place and there’s always a reason, to move forward and let it go.
To let go of the fears that you think define you, to let go of dreams that seem unfulfilled, because there’s always a way to dream again, it’s just inside you.
Your heart will still skip a beat, the days that follow you from there on, will be a constant reminder to what you had, and what you lost. Of what you thought was right and what you thought was wrong.
Yet somehow, the line between those rights and wrongs becomes duller and they both seem to fit into one, and you acknowledge the concept of letting go.
There’s so much the world can teach you, even when you don’t want it too, there is so much that a soul can take and be patient to take more, for eventually every soul has one mate, one that is immortal, because even if we don’t live forever, even if nothing stays the same, each soul will survive, and each soul will have a partner till the end of time.
We travel so many places, to learn, to grow, to discover something extraordinary, even though what is most aspiring, what is most exceptional, is the passage you find that leads you astray from doubts, expectations, worries, anything world-like, where you can finally be face to face with your fears, and find that you’re the one who wins that battle, for it is not about the things we said, it’s about the things we didn’t say, and the things we didn’t do, that stay inside you for a long time.
You can call it regret, or you can call it fate, and maybe, you can call it circumstance, which came in the way of you and your failure.
Regret has many shapes and forms, but it comes out, from within you, when you are on a journey to self discovery, you find your best friend and your worst enemy was inside you all along, and the best part of that is, that it will never deceive you, never give you assurances that you don’t deserve, and above it all, never desert you.
So you hold on to the better part of you, and put faith in the idea that what has passed you by, will remain inside you, for better or worse, but you will let go of holding on to all the hurt, and all the blame that your heart has endured, but letting go doesn’t come easy, it’s when time seems unreal, and you can feel that you’re finally healing, it’s just an intuition that leads you there on.
It can be the key that unlocks all the secrets, through the false pretences you left to the entrance of the passage way, that leads you on a trail full of doubts and mystery, but to the doorstep of fate. So you believe in the power of intuition, you believe that sometimes two minds can communicate, talk, without speaking, see, without looking, touch, without being near at all and so they know when to reach out, and when to back down.
And when there is time, to walk away, and you know that the odds are stacked against you, and there is no way that you can turn the table around, instead of holding onto things that will only suffocate your living existence, darken and burden you thoughts, you think of sunrise from the top of a cliff, of the feeling of having your toes dipped in the bed of the ocean and how there is greater depth in life, and nothing on the surface is really anything, until you dig in deeper, and so you let the surface sway, you let your thoughts take you to a higher level, where pain is much more insignificant, and you let go of all the fears, mistakes and painful memories of yesterday, and only remember the idea of tomorrow.

“People create their own questions because they are afraid to look straight. All you have to do is look straight and see the road, and when you see it, don’t sit looking at it – walk.”
― Ayn Rand

The Journey


Nobody tells the story like it is, maybe for a reason, because we all like to believe in happy endings, or the sheer hope of having one.
No one will tell the story of the broken man, the one who lost, the villain who was defeated, the drunk who destroyed all that he had in the utter misery of his own insecurities, the woman who wronged all wrongs against one right, her right to tragedy, the mistress who was a lesson learned by another man for his wife, to be used till he was educated of rights and wrongs, the child who walks away as a bully while everyone finally realizes they can stand up to him.
Life is not perfect, we all understand time to time. What we forget, or what we choose to disregard is that people aren’t perfect either. They’re all molded into themselves, through a figment of their own imagination of what they should be like, or what they think, they best be.
We are all slaves to time, and even though we keep roaming in circles to make the time in our life matter, we can’t understand the concept of taking two giant steps forward and then consent to a fall. And we’re all unaware of the change that stands two feet away, if only we had the courage enough to say yes to it.
The story is not supposed to end; it’s always a beginning of another. The sad eyes that you see tomorrow have a story behind it, that started on a day like any other, just ended with grief that got hidden behind one person’s eyes, and a shine of hope in someone else’s the same day.
The legendary stories never revolve around the concept of happiness, there’s always a cynic, and there’s seldom an optimist, just one character, who is full of life, and full of hope, and sometimes, that’s all any story needs. It doesn’t matter if love wins, and it doesn’t matter if the hope dies down, what matters eventually is that, the story was told. That the people in those stories survived, and nobody was labeled, there were no wrongs, and there were no rights, there were just actions, and words, that stayed forever.
That’s when you come to the senses of a person who knows what it feels like to have an impact on someone’s life. Be it anyone. The identity of a person you broke, or the revolutionary change you brought in someone’s life. And every once in a while, there are those changes, that have an impact so strong, that time and place, has nothing to do with the fading away of it, and it remains a constant fire inside you, blazing, for every time you look back, it doesn’t put out, but grows stronger. There are no regrets, there is a just a string of hope that makes you put the blame on circumstance, or fate. You can be wronged, or you can be the wrong one, every once in a while, but in the story you tell, you begin from and end to, the same place everyone else does eventually, from dust, to dust.
You will be someone’s incomplete ending, somebody’s villain, or you may be the victim in a story of one person’s life, and you may be the bully in another, you may have stolen someone else’s glory, yet you might still be the one feeling robbed of their glory some other day. One story may begin with you, another may end with you. You will surely be the lesson learned for one person, and a need for another.
You will also, never know the purpose of your life, till you finally learn to let go trying to find meaning inside every mistake, or every piece of victory you achieve. For your victory, could be someone else’s defeat. A defeat you rarely care to notice. Another life, you don’t recognize you touched.
For whatever you are, and whatever you will be, is a discovery to yourself ultimately, for everyone carries their baggage, their regrets, their sorrows, their joys, and to each their own make sense perfectly, for, there are always those days that stay with us, those fulfilling moments, those enigmatic nights where all you follow is your instinct, one singular moment, where you finally find the significance of something greater. When the stormy night brings something unusual with it, or those ordinary summer days, which bring the heavenly smell of bloom and the first cloud of rain and you can feel something is about to change, or the casual way someone breathes beside you, or lets you lean on them, only because you have to, and you wonder, just a little beyond your own world. And it is not about the beginning or an end of a story then, it’s the journey from one to the other that matters.

“The secret of the Great Stories is that they have no secrets. The Great Stories are the ones you have heard and want to hear again. The ones you can enter anywhere and inhabit comfortably. They don’t deceive you with thrills and trick endings. They don’t surprise you with the unforeseen. They are as familiar as the house you live in. Or the smell of your lover’s skin. You know how they end, yet you listen as though you don’t. In the way that although you know that one day you will die, you live as though you won’t. In the Great Stories you know who lives, who dies, who finds love, who doesn’t. And yet you want to know again. THAT is their mystery and magic.”
— Arundhati Roy (The God of Small Things)

The Perfect Illusion


Do you know how many villains it takes to make a hero? Have you ever counted the number of barriers it takes for a runner to reach the final point?
Have you ever considered the amount of right words it takes to create a particular scene?
Doesn’t it take a lot of mistakes to create a perfect melody?
And after taking into account all these things, how many times do you find yourself, at loss, to make the perfect mistakes, say all the right words, in the right order, overstep all the barriers, and defeat all your demons, to have the ideal outcome.
But most days, the thing that can always conquer your irrationality is the rush of affection, or the rush of emotion you feel in a moment, that you feel, can almost define your life, from there onwards.
And the one thing, that is always miscalculated, is the importance of the ordinary moments in your life, and how you keep trying to look for a definition of a perfect moment, or the definition of the highest or the lowest point in your life.
The classification of the perfect moment, that can define you, can never exist. So once you capture, you’re exceptional times, in the back of your head, you carry a pocketful of memories to create illusions for the rest of your days. So you hold onto that shadow of your perfection, and you try to live by it, to live in it. To surround yourself with it.
But the illusion, is just a trick of your mind, it’s just an act, and all you have to do is wait for the curtain to rip, and your illusion to turn into a ferret, or a dove, and fly away, leaving you standing there, like the rest of the audience, in awe. For illusions are not created, they are mistaken, by the weakness that exists within all of us, to hold onto the better part of yesterday. So we lie to ourselves a little, trick the soul a little, take two wrong steps, to take the one right one, so that it feels like an accomplishment.
For inside we know, that the fire is burning down, and either you can ignite the flame, or you can let it burn you down into ashes.
So you keep going over the same mistakes, the same misconceptions, to find yourself at the end of the road again, holding onto your petty illusions, hoping against all hope, not knowing that the thing that keeps you from moving forward is only you and you alone.
A hero needs a villain in the story, to be declared a hero. A warrior is not a warrior, if there is no war to begin with. Just like that, you are not a survivor, or at peace with yourself, if you haven’t complicated, meddled with, or dealt with, that other side of you, that needs to fight, that needs to question, that need not suffice to a single answer.
The fire that needs to burn in you, that passion that tends to exist within you, always needs a seed, that can be grown into something more than an illusion of what you need, of what you wish you could be.
There’s always a different perspective to winning a game. Someone will always win, and someone will always lose, but it’s not about the number of times you win, it’s about the number of times the winning, is worth it.
-“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life; your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy”
— Khalil Gibran

Tribute to Insanity


Every good thing in life always comes with a cost. Be it the lessons you learn, the anonymity you make sense of, the sadness you encounter, and the happiness you create. It all comes with a price.
The price of your soul. It slowly etches away, bit by bit, scrapes away what is complete, to something that is aged, something that is scarred with more knowledge then you thought possible. With bitterness, disappointments, with philosophies, theories based on your own experiences, that seem verifiable later.
You try to lead a life, keeping in mind not to over step boundaries, not to knock on the same door twice, so you won’t be pushed into the ground the third time.
You still can’t figure out where you belong, but you realize, where you don’t belong.
That’s when you know, that you can never know for sure, at all.
It’s the interminable loop, where nothing right is ever justified, and nothing wrong, is ever proved.
Because, your right and wrongs are only yours to keep, only yours to live with, they are your own personal slave, bowing and struggling to keep up with your every day endeavors, your every day achievements and failures.
Some of us justify our decisions merely as insanity. It is the most uncomplicated task, of shoving all our complications, all the snippets, leftovers, of bad days, of incomplete conversations, of darker nights, filled with rainy mornings, of empty feelings and hollows that exist within, into a chest, to be opened some other day. But the fact that we often miss facing is that chest seems to dwell deep within us, so every time we try to look within our self, whenever the moment calls for a reality check, that’s the first place where we are directed.
You cannot hide behind a veil of sorrows, nor can you hide behind an exterior of iron, for the skin is too thin, and behind this, inhabits everything that may amaze you, scare you, amuse you and eventually define you.
This idea of insanity may be well justified, but it is carefully weaved through time, and eventually it becomes a part of you that you cannot tear away.
Paulo Coelho wrote in Eleven Minutes:
“When I had nothing to lose, I had everything. When I stopped being who I am, I found myself.”
You cannot let anything define who you are, your identity, your being is only yours to will, only yours to keep, and only yours to face at the end of the day.
Your fate may frighten you; your faith may forsake you, but your dreams, your resolve, will stay with you.
Life can change you, and make the big decisions, the overpowering motivations, the ambitions define you, but every once in a while, when you’re tired and your knees buckle beneath you, you can feel the sparkle of the night because of the stars, the smell of the ground after a night full of rain, a slight breeze playing upon your hair, when doubts surround you and you feel the love surround you. It’s that time, where you look within, to who you are, and see that it is never enough then. Your being, Is a tiny place in the world, and if it is not enough for you, it can never be enough to the universe.
That is the time, where you open the chest of unhappiness, and somehow find, that pain is there for a reason, and that tangled web of insanity is the only thing that keeps you sane.
You cannot imprison thoughts; you cannot enslave yourself in a life that will eventually pass you by, you have to choke, to breathe again.
“There is a legend about a bird which sings only once in it’s life, more beautifully than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves it’s nest, it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, it impales it’s breast on the longest, sharpest thorn. But as it is dying, it rises above it’s own agony to outsing the Lark and the Nightingale. The Thornbird pays it’s life for that one song, and the whole world stills to listen, and God in his heaven smiles, as it’s best is brought only at the cost of great pain; Driven to the thorn with no knowledge of the dying to come.
But when we press the thorn to our breast, we know, we understand…. and still, we do it.”  ~ Colleen McCullough

Victim’s of Cliché


Either you hear a love song, or try to comprehend the pain of a bitter angry man, or when you catch a woman at her weakest, when there are tears, so the words come out slurred. In pain, or in absolute denial, when you turn that switch off, the one that is constantly reminding you of the word “practicality”, you find yourself trapped in a cliché.
Some of us live in the parallel universe, where fantasy finds its way to seem realistic. But others, they live in the real world, mostly facing the world every day like another ordeal, coherent towards the daily aspects, but every now and then, they fall into the trap.
I didn’t see it happening, I didn’t know when it did, but I fell into the trap. I found myself becoming a cliché. A cliché barely understood, or recognized for its own power. A curse or a blessing is based on perception. Perhaps it’s a bit of both, and if I’m a cliché for believing, than I am. For that’s what I do. I believe. I believe in the moment where you can get lost in the music, I believe even when you don’t notice, there is a soundtrack to every moment in your life, I believe in the meeting of two eyes, and shudders that can be passed around because of it. I believe that a touch of a hand can take you places far away, I believe in instability in passion. I believe a moment that lasts for a mere few seconds can have power over one that lasts longer,  I believe that you always look back to the worst times in your life, and feel the pain as strong as it was then. I believe that demeaning a past doesn’t make it seem less real, because it follows you like a shadow, everywhere you go. I believe that candlelight can really trigger romance. I believe you can hurt someone while loving them, I believe that you can smile while crying only if you have to. I believe in flying when you achieve the unattainable, I believe I’ll see my entire life flash before my eyes when I die. I believe in violins and harp’s playing when you’re falling in love.  I believe in the literal sense of breaking a heart. I believe that rock ‘n roll can take away the pain temporarily, but jazz can really mend a broken heart. I believe in roses, in small walks, in sunrise and beaches, in moonlight and sparkling stars. I believe in the importance of a slow dance, in letting go to have again.
I believe in expecting even in the worst, I believe in destiny.  I believe in prayers.
There are roses, and there are thorns. There is beauty, and there is flaw. There’s a beginning, to every end.  There is winning and there is losing. Every road either leads to, or takes from. It’s a vicious cycle. An interminable loop, where we gain or lose, but every now and then, we don’t keep account for. So we learn to give freely, and receive lovingly in the name of cliché.
Khalil Gibran once wrote, we choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them.
For we all have our hidden clichés that never cease to make us smile, or make us wonder. We do foolish things in the act of love, or passion, to live in the moment, because even though we have been taught that the world is harsh, that people forget, that nothing lasts, we deem else wise.
We believe in hope, in finding a way, in never giving up, in creating a bond that doesn’t bow to time, we believe in the simple act of emotion and the depths that it can reach, and that sometimes it can take you beyond and above, and bring you right where you belong.

Sound of Music


There is an echo in the wake of a silent mind; there is a soft thud of the heart that gives beat to the slow breathing of a human being, which hereby, creates a rhythm.
Without wanting to, without knowing so, we create music.
For some, it is something sacred, for some, it is feelings that are wrapped in a melody.  When words aren’t sufficient, it’s the only way to let yourself out. The only way to let yourself go, to go in the depth of something more than ordinary, and swim in the masses of an implausible being.
It is the depth to one’s soul, it helps you hold on to time, save a moment in a song, in the slow strumming of a guitar, or the critical moments of the violin, the high notes of a piano, it is your savior, or a way to open your eyes to feelings crushed deep inside you.
Suspension, silence, is all you need.
It is said,
“There’s music in the sighing of a reed;
There’s music in the gushing of a rill;
There’s music in all things, if men had ears:
Their earth is but an echo of the spheres.”
Lord Byron
If you look closely enough, you will find that even kings weep to the sounds of music; it can get the higher to the ground, and make the beggars rise above the kings, with the right note, with the correct symphony.
It becomes your recognition, for you are not bigger, nor lesser, but you just let yourself be what you are in that moment.
When you feel a tune, you don’t say it, you don’t find the words to express it, you just feel it in your veins, flowing through your body like blood, giving you the rush, or giving you the peace.
Inspiring you, or giving way to passion. It is indescribable for it is a feeling that can either be your lullaby or your blaze.
It can either make you swing your hair, when you’re lost in the moment, with your lips parted for the slow intake of air, your hands carelessly loose around you, soaring with your body, while your feet are just above the ground.
In that moment, you’re in an alternate universe, captivated by the music, unable to recognize your own strength, for everything becomes a weakness bowing down to the sounds that only remain, to make you believe that insanity surely exists.
It exists in every one of us, it isn’t ecstasy, no, it isn’t a substance. It has no price, it cannot be sold. It is who you are, and to each, the sound of music is different, to each one of us, insanity comes differently; it is deep, for it touches your being. But only, when it touches your inner self, you find the solace, or you find the madness, for you finally find yourself.

Gravity by Sara Bareilles


Something always brings me back to you
It never takes too long
No matter what I say or do
I still feel you here ’til the moment I’m gone

You hold me without touch
You keep me without chains
I never wanted anything so much
Than to drown in your love and not feel your rain

Set me free, leave me be
I don’t wanna fall another moment into your gravity
Here I am and I stand so tall
I’m just the way I’m supposed to be
But you’re on to me and all over me

You loved me ’cause I’m fragile
When I thought that I was strong
But you touch me for a little while
And all my fragile strength is gone

Set me free, leave me be
I don’t wanna fall another moment into your gravity
Here I am and I stand so tall
I’m just the way I’m supposed to be
But you’re on to me and all over me

I live here on my knees
As I try to make you see
That you’re everything I think I need
Here on the ground

But you’re neither friend nor foe
Though I can’t seem to let you go
The one thing that I still know
Is that you’re keeping me down
You’re keeping me down

You’re on to me, on to me and all over
Something always brings me back to you
It never takes too long