No title…

The night has started and the air is now still.

Outside a room, a joyous laughter lingers.

A remnant of the day’s warmth.

There, the streets are clear,

and now the lights though dim,

burn for those who seek the accompany of the night,

but fear its close embrace.

Behind the faintly heated glass,

where a soul had once peered out,

was a single candle,

which tiredly illuminated the room.

But among the shadows formed

one held a light without form.

though it flickered,

though it wavered,

it rarely blinked and stood at a canvas.

 

Quiet…

The shadow heard nothing as it glared at the paper,

nothing but white filled its sight.

Slowly…

The shadow…

There a tremble …

And now a black line cuts the white canvas.

The ink soaks into the paper like the first drops onto patched earth.

With that the shadow stares…

But now a black line has crept up into the shadows heart…

 

 

 

Time flows slowly at night for the shadow…

The black ink had continued to seep in,

but now the light wanes,

A thick arm reaches to replace it.

filled with cuts and blackness,

the shadow lights the new candle but never stares at it.

It would be bad if he gets accustomed to the light.

but the gloom settles as a little warmth reaches him.

 

The canvas,

madden by the black lines which curve and cut across each other chaotically,

glares at the man within the shadows.

It curses him fo his inability,

and berates him for his choice which is said to stem from greed,

A greed to win which has lead to his loss.

The man is bare,

his heart is naked.

It aches…

He knows the truth and knows what is said is no lie.

But though he thinks,

he never stops…

 

 

Then the man stops,

and casts his arms down.

He steps back and watches as the yellow light stain the remains of canvas white,

The line still chaotically,

but now the lines flowed clearly into the picture of a boy and girl,

now a man and a woman,

and a small girl and a house.

But as the man smiled, a tear ran down his cheek

a tear ran down his cheek,

As he knew that it was never going to come back…

 

 

 

 

Some old writings…(incomplete)

Where can I find the people?

The people who share my interests.

The people who will fill the gap between me and the world.

And will end a restlessness that has surfaced to fill the void.

Till I find them, this emptiness will remain…

 

Within this state of limbo, I have cursed myself for many things.

Especially for the disharmony wrought by my presence,

Where I have cast red onto the deep blue sea,

and the faint radiance on its surface further reminds me of my differences.

But even I, who am absorbed often within my own world, knows such thoughts

knows such thoughts are ultimately foolish.

 

 

Original sayings

I will use this post to store some sayings that I wrote before. That is, if I find all of them…


 

  1. Although one’s hands may be stained with hypocrisy their words may not. what is truth should be judged on their own merit…
  2. The power of evil lies not within its ability to corrupt but within its ability to persuade.
  3. Evil corrupts once but justice corrupts infinitely.
  4. Perfection exists where one cannot critique its flaws.

poem

Once burning,

now frozen,

My passions have gone cold.

With no flare but a chill,

I’m empty,

and so are my desires.

unable to shiver for my vigor has regressed,

into the ice I stare at it but I can no long reach it.

 

 

My ambition turned ambiguous,

my rigor has left me for dead,

but I blame it not…

Dwelling on past thought,

I wonder how I made it so far…

 

Even when being taught,

the importance of a well placed fight.

When the sparks were lit,

but I had yet to have caught on to it…

 

Though I told them what I thought was right,

my only wanting was,

to break thought that black night,

With just a pen and paper,

I wanted my voice to Resound past that turbid world’s vapor,

Just once I wanted…

To wake the torpid people,

to raise the torrid cities.

But now it haunts me

And now how they shun me…

 

 

 

 

 

poem ?

Seeking to reform from your current self,

you refuse the easy path,

and deny the thoughts that lead to habitual actions.

To deny these unwanted actions,

is to treaded on ground mostly unknown.

yet you wonder around seeking something,

not just anything and

certainly more than nothing.

You carry on,

tired,

unrested…

But not relenting on a possible purposeful walk,

even past the likely last stop,

brings you to a place that you may want to be.

The gap between the image of the past and future fills,

but you dwell still within the current void,

But aleast now the images on the distant shore,

will accompany your midnight chore.