Stand there still

Stand there still- amidst the chaos
Let not the unruly world shake you
Rest your feet when it hurts
Lean your back against this wall

Stand there still- amidst the confusion
Let not the trepidation of the future weaken you
Shawl yourself when it gets chilly
Sit once in a while if you may

Stand there still- Don’t hide
The stars has not yet appeared on sight
Stand there still- Don’t cry
Let tomorrow unveil itself

Photograph

If only life is a photograph
That you can freeze that moment
And hold it in your hands
That moment when you are at your happiest

If only life is a photograph
That you can capture all that there is
And post upon the walls
That moment when even black and white also equates to red and blue

If only life is a photograph
That you can edit and restore
That which is even timeworn or dilapidated
That moment when you are tainted or blemished

If only life is a photograph
That you can manually control the outcome of exposures
That you can dictate the angle, the depth, the mood
That moment of indecisions and skepticisms- about life and what is to come

But life is a photograph after all
There will be no shots without the one making it…

A Tale

There is always a story- a story behind everything that is seen; a story behind everything that is heard; a story behind everything that is felt.

Sometimes what appear to be beautiful are only those that are pleasing to the eyes. Sometimes what appears to be a great song is only that which is being played over and over. Sometimes what appear to be genuine are only those gems shining brilliantly.

There is always a story- how the coin got to the ground; how the flower withered; how the piece of paper got to the trash.

There is always a story- Something that we know the truth about and something that we would never know the truth. There was action behind the fact. And there was intention.

There is always a story- the truth is things are always taken as is. No questions ask- people ran away without turning heads. No words are spoken- people create walls to shield hurts. Reality is buried. Only the memory lingers.

The Leaf

I saw a tree whose leaves have all fallen
It seemed like age has taken its toll
Or is it just the season?

I came to wonder
What force is responsible?
Is it the wind, whose blowing might have caused it to be detached from the branches?
Is it the tree, which might not have held the leaves tightly and just let it go?
Is it the leaf itself, which has not clung onto the branches enough to withstand the wind?
Is it just the changing of the season, which spelled its destiny?

Black and White Love

It is the voice, that even in silence it speaks
It is the thought, that even in distance it reminisces
It is the compassion, that even in transgression it forgives
It is the intimacy, that even in solitude it accompanies
It is the serenity, that even in perplexity it understands
It is the warmth, that even in cold evenings it embraces

It is the language that some could not speak
It is the memory that many would just forgo
It is the reminder that once you wronged him
It is the closeness that some have mistaken it to be
It is the quietness that a lot would just give it up
It is the heat that sometimes would melt hearts