Why certain things happen the way they do?
Why do they happen at all?
Is it a destiny? Serendipity? Pure coincidence?
Why being at a certain place at a very specific time can change the course of your life entirely?
One second can have a fatal consequence.
One minute is all it takes to turn your life upside down...
Bring you all the "riches," or take away everything you have...
Monday, 30 December 2013
Sunday, 25 August 2013
Stars
I wish that I could fly,
to those far away places,
those far away stars;
Galaxies.
Their worlds.
Their skies.
Their hearts.
Their present...
They don’t seem to mind
the ever changing light,
the ever changing time.
What we see is their past,
the light they shine,
a mere remnant of a life
that may, or may not be...
How strange this notion seems.
A photograph of history
A movie, repeating every night,
yet never the same
(although it appears otherwise).
The light is there.
But, is it really?
to those far away places,
those far away stars;
Galaxies.
Their worlds.
Their skies.
Their hearts.
Their present...
They don’t seem to mind
the ever changing light,
the ever changing time.
What we see is their past,
the light they shine,
a mere remnant of a life
that may, or may not be...
How strange this notion seems.
A photograph of history
A movie, repeating every night,
yet never the same
(although it appears otherwise).
The light is there.
But, is it really?
What is love?
What is love?
Love is a mystery.
Never to be revealed. Never to be understood. Is love real, or is it just a dream? A pure illusion, something we imagine, invent to make peace with our own mortality. Love remains, as a whisper, a flame; maybe ever lasting in a different sense. Never static, never the same. A breeze. A breath. A caress. A feather in the air. A droplet of a tear.
What is love?
Love is a mystery.
___
Often times we confuse other feeling(s) with love. Perhaps a combination of different feelings; we attribute them to “love.”
Or is it that “love” is behind all our feelings? To some extent, in some way.
Or, is it “love” at all? If it’s love, should it not be everlasting, without limits and prejudice. Or is it just part of the cycle of life. Ever changing, different, evolving with time. Changing from one thing to another. Morphing into different shapes, shades, depths...never constant as our own “self” is never the same. Or, is it?
Perhaps, all is just too subjective. Even a sphere changes from different angles, in response to a light source...
But maybe, there is “love” that’s constant, even everlasting, in the ultimate kind of sense. Maybe it’s the force (itself) driving this strange cycle of life, as energy fueling the machinery... and just because all we know is temporary, does not mean it is all there is.
Or, does it?
___
I write you a letter. A letter I will never send. Or, perhaps some day, when I find your existence.
Questions I have, seem not to matter, or should remain unanswered. Whether a reality, or a dream. Perhaps that is not important. I write these lines to let my imagination fly. To create something of nothing, but thoughts running through my mind. Are you the reader? Or am I?
Love is a mystery.
Never to be revealed. Never to be understood. Is love real, or is it just a dream? A pure illusion, something we imagine, invent to make peace with our own mortality. Love remains, as a whisper, a flame; maybe ever lasting in a different sense. Never static, never the same. A breeze. A breath. A caress. A feather in the air. A droplet of a tear.
What is love?
Love is a mystery.
___
Often times we confuse other feeling(s) with love. Perhaps a combination of different feelings; we attribute them to “love.”
Or is it that “love” is behind all our feelings? To some extent, in some way.
Or, is it “love” at all? If it’s love, should it not be everlasting, without limits and prejudice. Or is it just part of the cycle of life. Ever changing, different, evolving with time. Changing from one thing to another. Morphing into different shapes, shades, depths...never constant as our own “self” is never the same. Or, is it?
Perhaps, all is just too subjective. Even a sphere changes from different angles, in response to a light source...
But maybe, there is “love” that’s constant, even everlasting, in the ultimate kind of sense. Maybe it’s the force (itself) driving this strange cycle of life, as energy fueling the machinery... and just because all we know is temporary, does not mean it is all there is.
Or, does it?
___
Questions I have, seem not to matter, or should remain unanswered. Whether a reality, or a dream. Perhaps that is not important. I write these lines to let my imagination fly. To create something of nothing, but thoughts running through my mind. Are you the reader? Or am I?
The view
River, green meadows, hills, houses, churches, castles; history, past, legacy...
I’m on a train,
a journey into the known and the unknown, future transitioning into present,
present into past.
Perpetuum mobile.
Vehicle of life...
knowledge, wisdom, bit by bit, coming in and going, fleeing into the subconsciousness. The abyss.
Locked away until it re-appears on the surfaces of our minds. If ever.
Uncertainty caressing the cells in your brain. Signals jumping through nerves.
Blood cells delivering the oxygen.
Coming in and going away.
Until the flame burns out.
Une terre. Eternelle. Mais pas vraiment.
Constantly changing,
yet remaining the same.
Remnants of the past
dancing in the air.
I’m on a train,
a journey into the known and the unknown, future transitioning into present,
present into past.
Perpetuum mobile.
Vehicle of life...
knowledge, wisdom, bit by bit, coming in and going, fleeing into the subconsciousness. The abyss.
Locked away until it re-appears on the surfaces of our minds. If ever.
Uncertainty caressing the cells in your brain. Signals jumping through nerves.
Blood cells delivering the oxygen.
Coming in and going away.
Until the flame burns out.
Une terre. Eternelle. Mais pas vraiment.
Constantly changing,
yet remaining the same.
Remnants of the past
dancing in the air.
Tuesday, 2 April 2013
Freedom
Droplets of the golden rain
fall upon the curves of my face
rolling down into the depths
of my 'emptiness'
My eyes see the ever changing images
my soul searches for the meanings
my senses tell me one thing
but my heart isn’t sure
I feel confused,
I feel refused,
sometimes alone,
some times overflowed with 'love'
My eyes see the light
in spite of shadows creeping up
around me
within me.
Cold breath escapes my mouth.
Freedom is what I (think) want...
fall upon the curves of my face
rolling down into the depths
of my 'emptiness'
My eyes see the ever changing images
my soul searches for the meanings
my senses tell me one thing
but my heart isn’t sure
I feel confused,
I feel refused,
sometimes alone,
some times overflowed with 'love'
My eyes see the light
in spite of shadows creeping up
around me
within me.
Cold breath escapes my mouth.
Freedom is what I (think) want...
Monday, 4 February 2013
Magical moment
It can appear in an instance and disappear just as quickly. A little something that enriches our experience of living. Sometimes we get too hung up on waiting for it to happen, or trying to create it. Perhaps even to an extent that when it actually happens we might miss the magic passing in front of our own eyes. And then, when you least expect it, even a simple thing as walking out of a Tube station on a chilly, windy January evening, in the midst of a busy city, surrounded by rushing people and plethora of lights and noises, can make magic happen. It hits you: “Isn’t this moment just magical?”
As I climb up and down the stairs, walk past few walls decorated with posters, a view arises that we, the people inhabiting this town, forget about or tend to take for granted. The ancient site, history still present for us to see: stone walls and towers, a somewhat plain yet magnificent structure where kings and queens resided, people were imprisoned; the home of the Crown Jewels of the United Kingdom; the place that has witnessed so many different events. The castle stands in splendour, enveloped by glorious flood of light that contrasts it against the dark backdrop of a wintery night sky... I wonder what this place looked like in the days when it was being built, after it was completed, and throughout the centuries to follow. Entirely different times, ever changing context.
I walk along the pathways that millions of people have passed through every single day for centuries, every second separating me even more from (their) past. Bright modern building in front of me, a small dim green on my left, the castle on my right. And there it is, another view that can take your breath away, if you stop and take it in. The stately structure of the Tower Bridge is shaping up from around the corner of Tower of London. Not exactly an ancient sight in itself, yet amazing nevertheless. The setting, the shapes, the colours. Of course the lights intensify the whole experience.
Tonight I become a tourist for a hundredth time since I’ve arrived to this city. Although on my way home from work, rushing to escape the cold wintery wind, but truly seeing and absorbing the changing picture in front of me. More stairs to climb up onto the bridge, passing by commuters and tourists alike. And the magic continues. In the matter of few steps and change in my elevation, the view is transformed into even more wondrous, at least for me. I’m walking down the bridge that has been pictured on endless amount of postcards and featured in many movies. One of the most recognizable symbols of this city. And ahead on my right, the contrasting, yet nicely interacting shapes of brightly lit modern buildings, each window revealing even more shapes and colours. The water is reflecting the lights around and above. Modernity vs. history, separated by the river, but joined together by the bridge.
Some things remain for years, decades, even centuries, or millennia, but the view is never exactly the same. Although, as with everything else in life which we get to experience regularly, it becomes a part of every day. Something we begin to take for granted, or forget about overall. But, noticing these little things is what makes the every day life more magical. Amazing.
As I climb up and down the stairs, walk past few walls decorated with posters, a view arises that we, the people inhabiting this town, forget about or tend to take for granted. The ancient site, history still present for us to see: stone walls and towers, a somewhat plain yet magnificent structure where kings and queens resided, people were imprisoned; the home of the Crown Jewels of the United Kingdom; the place that has witnessed so many different events. The castle stands in splendour, enveloped by glorious flood of light that contrasts it against the dark backdrop of a wintery night sky... I wonder what this place looked like in the days when it was being built, after it was completed, and throughout the centuries to follow. Entirely different times, ever changing context.
I walk along the pathways that millions of people have passed through every single day for centuries, every second separating me even more from (their) past. Bright modern building in front of me, a small dim green on my left, the castle on my right. And there it is, another view that can take your breath away, if you stop and take it in. The stately structure of the Tower Bridge is shaping up from around the corner of Tower of London. Not exactly an ancient sight in itself, yet amazing nevertheless. The setting, the shapes, the colours. Of course the lights intensify the whole experience.
Tonight I become a tourist for a hundredth time since I’ve arrived to this city. Although on my way home from work, rushing to escape the cold wintery wind, but truly seeing and absorbing the changing picture in front of me. More stairs to climb up onto the bridge, passing by commuters and tourists alike. And the magic continues. In the matter of few steps and change in my elevation, the view is transformed into even more wondrous, at least for me. I’m walking down the bridge that has been pictured on endless amount of postcards and featured in many movies. One of the most recognizable symbols of this city. And ahead on my right, the contrasting, yet nicely interacting shapes of brightly lit modern buildings, each window revealing even more shapes and colours. The water is reflecting the lights around and above. Modernity vs. history, separated by the river, but joined together by the bridge.
Some things remain for years, decades, even centuries, or millennia, but the view is never exactly the same. Although, as with everything else in life which we get to experience regularly, it becomes a part of every day. Something we begin to take for granted, or forget about overall. But, noticing these little things is what makes the every day life more magical. Amazing.
Strange...
It’s strange, this thing called life. People coming in and out of our lives, leaving whatever impression they leave behind. Until, one day, we (I) leave the lives of others. Life passes by in what seems but an instance, the time zooming by relative to our state of being. Some days seem to last awfully long, while others seem to disappear in a blink of an eye. There are people who leave a great imprint in our minds, even after they disappear the realm of our present realities, and there are those we hardly think of again after they are gone from our own lives.
The same can be said about many other things: photographs, paintings, movies, events, songs, flavours, experiences. Each leaving its own mark in our minds, on our lives. Good, bad, horrible, incredible, mediocre, amazing, ugly, beautiful, not so memorable...Memorable for a lifetime.
The more we experience, the more we can remember, and each of these experiences can (in the long run) move us forward, can help us to learn, grow, evolve. Because when we are not “evolving,” we are not living quite fully, and even though it’s necessary and good to sleep, dream, relax and recharge, it is important to be “awake” and living, experiencing this strange thing called life and enriching our own stories with all these “impressions.”
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