RAIN DROPS AND SILVER CLOUDS

Rain drops on the window pain, the night is cold and I am all alone. Not for the first time though and the silence in my room is but a mockery to the multitude of noises in my head. Questions unanswered and promises unkept. I grow accustommed to the solitude but let it not be mistaken for tranquility. The smile on the face is a mask to shield the hurt within. Pain comes and goes and the torment of the past keeps coming back to hunt. Where has my peace gone? Where did the goodwill go to? I grow weary of asking questions . I grow weary of searching. I grow weary of all the things that have a semblance of hope. I easily identify with the dark clouds in the guise that I expect refreshing rain, in truth it is the gloom that begets me. The gloom of my reality is one of despair and pain. Not that the urge to try has ceased, but that the sensibility of knowing that what you seek has long gone. The chase becomes futile and the promises of a million words no longer spur the heart to try. A new hobby? That also haas been tried and, not to sound pessimistic, the flavour of sweet honey and spice and the allure of ever intoxicating wine have all turned into a routine to pass time and to engineer in the minds of people that all is well.
For the time being, all is indeed well and the pain seems to have abated. Common sense and experince tells me that the pain would return and in a moment when I would not be prepared, in a moment when the same mistake that was made in the past would be made yet again. It is not a choice to live in misery, for the misery makes life in itself a living torment. We all hold on to dreams and hope they become a reality, but what about the nightmares? And those nightmares have away of becoming a reality faster than the ‘happy ever afters’.
Suddenly, it is made known to me that the source of pain is not in the search of joy but in the fear of falling and failing. The handicap you feel when you are made to believe that no matter how hard you try, the inevitable outcome would be failure. Failure that is accompanied with shame. The loss of dignity and integrity and the warning from the numerous failures beside you that you should know better that to try again. That is the pain. That is the gloom you find and make a haven in. The entry of the word brings light and darkness flees in the presence of light. And along the line, a voice of hope more excruciating than the pain you have endured all along, snaps you to life. Opens your eyes and makes you see the light of the life you have. You still see the gloom but you also know and understand that ‘in every dark cloud there is asilver lining’. Even if destiny is delayed, it wont be denied. We begin to accept the things we do not understand. Making for ourselves resolutions along the way that would indeed make us stronger and always remembering that in this life, we are never alone.
It’s a sad fact that life is not fair but in it are the tools to fight for justice and happiness. We all get what we deserve and when we do get it, what we do with it is entirely up to us.

THOSE WORDS...

She cried herself to sleep again and promised herself never to pass through such misery again. The words she said she could not take back. The feelings she made bare, her soul she poured out. Not a signal was made to make her aware of the sacrifice she was to make and indeed how unprepared she was. To speak or not to speak, she kept on churning and ruminating as she tried to make sense of the events that just unfolded before her eyes. It was a decision she had thoroughly thought out and repeatedly executed in her mind. Reality, on the other hand had many other variables she had not deemed necessary to factor in. a recipe for disaster? Well a disaster might be an understatement because she now had nothing else to say, nothing else to offer. This was her one chance, her only opportunity and she blew it. Was it ever going to be the same? Would she have the courage to try again? Were the wounds ever going to heal?
The words she said were raw, pure and well rehearsed. She had no intention of being misinterpreted. She wanted to speak from her heart. She spoke, but the words never came out. Her voice failed her when she waited it to be heard and her heart was exploding with words that were never heard. Her body shivered as she tried to gather some semblance of composure. Little pellets of perspiration trickled down her forehead and she could feel her armpit soak. ‘where did my confidence go?’, she asked herself. She turned and walked away, she ran away. Where the energy came from,she knows not, but she ran an she quizzed herself, she questioned her heart. But the answers lay not within but out there where her voice was needed. The response she wanted was never going to happen. The words she wanted to hear were never going to be said to her. What did she expect? It was her expectations that had let her down and she had but herself to blame. Even now, blame was useless. The resolution of the inner battle was going to take time and she knew she was going to lose even that. The feelings were gone against her will, she remained broken, the words were not said and the words she expected to hear…

SAVING GRACE

The pleasures of the past hold firm in my heart
And memories, fond as they are, are all but passing, save your face with that perfect smile
And not the shackles that bind me to these walls down here in the dark and muddy dungeon can take away from me the peace that your face brings to me
‘Even this shall pass’, I tell myself even if I have no idea or present expectation as to how this is to come about, but I believe
I find myself in the bleakest of situations and I find a way to survive, with your voice, a melody to my senses
I know not what this feeling is or how strong it is
I just pleasure in it and hope it stays on for as long as I live, for it could be long or abrupt, I know not
My eyes shut now in the darkness that envelopes me
My heart, rapidly beating as the certainty of my plight is made known to me
My persecution gets more painful but my persecutor is frustrated and I do not blame him
For who would suffer all these, with bruises and scars to show for the torture endured and still have a smile on their face?
Nothing can take away your smile
Nothing can take away your beauty
Nothing can take away the joy you have given me
I will only smile as my voice is lost to my own cries of physical pain and trauma and the exhaustion of unending plummeting of my body
My soul and indeed my body are drained of energy yet I smile
I cannot help that it is you who have kept me till this day
I search no more, for indeed I have found
I want nothing more than I have already received
I am not lucky but blessed
And you have being my SAVING GRACE

A BRIEF CONCLUSION

I have come to a conclusion rather hastily; that the end of everything we see is the beginning of a new chapter. Not blessed with fore sight, I could be forgiven for saying that the persuasive nature of the recent occupants of my mind make quite a compelling argument, one which I am not at liberty to question or even try to disprove
Another conclusion I can tell you, though this conclusion has been thoroughly scrutinized by me is one that is accepted by a vast majority of people or at least people who follow my present train of thought. This conclusion has a lot to do with distance and time and the familiarity of a voice heard after a long separation.

in life and there after

This is not a picture of a fair maiden in distress and the grandeur and bravado of her knight in shining armour. No! this is quite the opposite, of a man, a chaotic and destructive case of not really caring about anything. A man who lived in the shadows for fear of failing and never got up for fear of falling. A man surrounded by promise and stood on potentials yet some how managed to turn the ambience of Eden to the cacophony of an Armageddon. Destruction loomed heavily like a rain cloud in the spring and the sound of thunder and flashes of lightening seemed to hold no more fury than the already ravaging sea and quaking mother earth.
The defeat before the war even began, a shameless surrender was his first hand and indeed his only hand, he had slumped to his dying bed waiting for his own very breath to cease and the blood in his veins to turn cold. A corpse already in his mind, he had many a time pictured his own death and by this time he was accustomed to the smell of his decaying flesh. The stench of his vomit and feaces still strong in the air as his senses were dulled by the ever increasing density of ammonia in the air, indeed he was a living-dead.
The fresh breeze on the horizon held no promise for him and the hope of a last stand or a grand stand or any stand at all was a lost memory. He waited.
She, yes there had to be a she in this story. This ‘she’ had had enough of lies and deception. She was through with letting herself be the victim and she had every right to feel and act that way. She had always wanted more from life and was willing to give more, sometimes more than was required of her and what did she get in return? She had dried up her fountain of tears and her heart had frozen over with stone cold bitterness and red hot fury. Never again would she fall prey to lies, the same lies that had scared her severely and severally. The evidence was visible and the marks proof of the hardship she had experienced all because she wanted to live her life and do so to the fullest. She was no fool, at least not anymore and the words uttered from her mouth, a testament to the feelings her heart tried to conceal.
It is only fitting to say that one finds redemption at the least likely of places and the feeling of salvation, like a breath of fresh air to the suffocating. They found it and kicked against each other and against the wave of emotions running through their veins. It did not happen all at first sight as a lot of stories would tell it and it did not happen because it was duty, a nurse to a dying man. No! it was neither, but when the hand of fate dragged them to the same path, the will power which they had consciously built and fortified over decades with blocks and bricks of hatred and bitterness, callousness and irresponsibility, fell apart just as they looked away from each other.
Now, even when the inevitable end draws nearer and the cold hand of death grips firmly, the smile that lingers on their faces even as it is moistened with tears, their tears, you know that the power which has drawn these resolute souls out of their individual abyss must have a celestial dimension and the time spent, no matter how brief it was, was indeed worth a life time. The heavens cried that day too as the rain clouds poured forth her content with reckless abandon and the seas, likewise roared the covenant shared by these two. The covenant of love so deep that the pain of a hot piercing blade was no pain compared to the cry of a loved one.
No more pain, no more destruction.
All is well, all is beautiful.
All IS

unorthordox apology

The complexity of a single individual very many deny but it lies within the confines of nomenclature. The duality or even multiplicity of the one person makes it difficult to completely harness more or less control and with the ever growing rave of ‘the illuminati’ and the ‘new world order’, the chaos is indeed frightening bothering close and rather to close to dementia and a major psychotic case yet to be clinically studied.
I have my own complexities which I battle with because I sincerely believe in simplicity. The clarity of a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ paints a clearer picture than a still life photograph. Only if actions could be more blatant and direct and still at the same time reflect the true intentions of the ever evolving and developing mind.
All these jargon, I leave for the psycho analyst to try and make sense of, but for you the regular (no offence) human, I will try to communicate in a more basic manner.
Mistakes! The bane of our education and the mother of many an excuse such as incompetence and misunderstanding. Yes misunderstandings which we do not fore see and the consequences which envelope us and make us look a lot dumber than we actually are or than we want to be seen.
I will like to apologize fervently to you for the hardship you must be going through right now trying to figure out what this is all about but I tell you my absence has been for a reason not to sound but a reason all the same and the loves lost and found (and some lost again) during this period have created a turmoil which time is actually finding difficult to settle.
In simple words, the mind is bubbling over with emotions from the long absence and a little (or maybe more) time is needed to gather some direction.
At last, a man is coming of age and taking responsibility for actions becomes a duty along with fending for himself and those he holds dear. Forget the battle for self preservation because this is a rather content man, (or so he would like you to believe), the only battle is the battle for survival and territory and the acquisition of new frontiers now, a hobby for the already existing elite must be a target attainable by careful and detailed planning. A problem arises, he is no planner or one to fret about details, he loves results though so the means is no problem to him and here lies the problem as this man still has a really active conscience and the only thing he cherishes more than love is the peace of mind he gets when his conscience finds no fault in his dealings with other terrestrials (and sometimes extra-terrestrials).
He craves success more than happiness sometimes because in success he finds happiness, even if only momentarily. He has a weakness as all other great men before him and his mortality threatens to undermine the invisibility he has garnered over time. His fears take a new shape and start dictating for his mind, he needs a new motivation and a source of inspiration. He, like a weathered petal is on the brink of falling to the dust and facing the wrath of oblivion. He smiles and looks upon his one and only true love and realizes what his whole existence has been about. If this does not happen, if the great fall does not occur, his story will be told to little ones as a fable or a fairy tale, his is what legend is made of and the tale, as such, be told. That is the success he craves and that is the fall that precedes it. Not calculated but spontaneous
He is a man…. A man on the move. A man in search, in search of the strongest gift.
If he finds it, only time will tell but the nature within him must be conquered and the energy from within must flow.


I am deeply sorry for my nature and I regret not warning you.
I hope you find what you are looking for, I don’t have it with me.
I did not set out to hurt you, but hurting you became inevitable.
Your nature and mine hold equal responsibility, but my actions deserve and take full blame.

THE BLANK LETTER

I thought honesty was the best policy. Then I was told I talked too much. Now I have decided not to say anything. But I can’t live like that. I feel I may explode anytime if I don’t let it out. It is a chronic desire to let my mind wander into yours. I am not thinking at the moment, just doing. I may not want to be held accountable for what I have done in the void of my mind. I am as a baby born but I have secrets that I am about to reveal to you. If you look closely you would see what it all means, or what it is supposed to mean. If it means nothing to you doesn’t mean you are dumb. It may just be that we are not on the same frequency or wavelength. If you do get a message or meaning from it, then we may be alike in more than one way. Which is not such a bad thing considering the fact that you are beginning to find yourself in other people. People you may have never met or will ever meet except for the works they have done and stories you hear about them. So now that we have started trying hard not to be ourselves and the green on the other side makes our grass look yellow, we have accepted that we have to become better or more like someone else. We take the job of been a mirror, just reflecting other people and hoping that it is only the beautiful that make their way towards us. The reality is that as long as we remain mirrors, we will encounter some rather unpleasant images which we must, as a law of nature and must be obeyed. Some will not like the image they see and it is no fault of the mirror (you), but they still take it out on the mirror and at times leave it broken. The mirror is broken and sometimes it is beyond repair and no sane person, good looking or otherwise will want to approach such a mirror which is even more devastating. That is the fate of the mirror. Fragile, and broken. That is not the end of the story, a weapon is now born, and that is in the hands of the wrong person. The mirror has become a polyvalent entity and all because of the void. The mirror tells no lies and that is the end of it. The reward for its honesty.
Maybe honesty is the best policy, maybe we should say the truth at all times and let the truth do the job of setting us free. The price maybe steep, but the truth I know is bitter and it is that many people can not look into the mirror and stand their own reflection. And if the truth will bring about more destruction than bridge building in our own life time and the likely hood of it making things any better in the future is slim. Should we take that chance? Maybe.
I will only say what I know is true, but I will say it, first to myself, then The Truth will shine forth from within. So they will say I did not say it but I lived it…..