Monday, April 04, 2005

Journal Archive: Through A Window

I'm looking in a window. A small window from a building that doesn't exist. From a window that has no frames, and neither a glass. But still a window.

The sky is shining blue. Small clouds chasing each other above the dancing green grass, while the sun smiles gently as they all play.

I'm looking in a window. A small window from a building that doesn't exist. From a window that has no frames, and neither a glass. But still a window.

The rain is pouring hard. It's a storm. Lightning flashing, striking the earth with anger. Burning everything it touches. Flames. Flames that can't even be burned out by the strong wind ripping off the trees and buildings from their foundations. Destruction. Totally, and nothing saved.

I'm looking in a window. A small window from a building that doesn't exist. From a window that has no frames, and neither a glass. But still a window.

Just an image from a window. A window that can show millions of images in a second. The brain recording each and every detail it can see. Part painful, part beautiful. And many times unbearable, with either horror or delight. Still recording ...

I'm looking in a window. A small window from a building that doesn't exist. From a window that has no frames, and neither a glass. But still a window.

A vague image appears in the window. This one apart from the millions of images. It's from the invisible glass itself, not from beyond it. An image that is somehow glued to the glass, but not framed by the window. I recognize this one. Yes, definitely! It's ... it's me.

Wait, is it me? Is it really me? I seem so ... different.

My eyes. A look from a small child with innocence, with truth, and with sadness, having to let go of his bright orange balloon. Watching it silently fade away in the blue morning summer sky. "Good-bye," not knowing what it really means.

The skin of my face looks so rough and burned by the strong harsh sun with scars all over. But not entirely, just part of it, creating a new layer of skin. A mask. To hide and bury the old.

My lips are closed by the secret it hides. The dark secret of a world it knows. A world made of hope and love but flourished hate and anger.

Yes, that is me. But not me completely!!

Look deeper in those eyes!! Can't you see the small little smile it still has from the laughter and joy? From every game it once played? From every love it once touched? Look!

Yes, my skin may seem rough and hard, but made from all the tenderness and warmth of the flowing blood running deep inside through my veins. Each cell giving it's purity to nourish both the old and new skin. Not a mask!

My lips, not only holding the dark secrets it knows but also a sweet taste from another. A taste made of a very special ingredient, mixed by delicate hands. Yes, I once tasted it. And it is still there, on my lips.

That is me!! Look closely, and don't be fooled by the first impressions I show. They're not completely true. Don't get fooled by yourself. Look!!

I'm looking in a window. A small window from a building that doesn't exist. From a window that has no frames, and neither a glass. But still a window.

Everything is starting to get out of focus. So I close my eyes.

Journal Archive: The Present

Running among the beams of light.

Through the substance of time.

Conquering distance over distance.

I am here. This is now. Tracks lead behind and before me.

My path, my destiny - made by Fate.

Foot after foot. Mile after mile.

No time for confusion, no time for slowing down.

Decisions are made. Chances are taken. Opportunities are not forsaken.

This is my life. And I am in control of it. Only I.

I might stumble over obstacles, I might fall over hurdles.

Still I have to go on to take the other step, the other, and the other.

Empowered by the energy bursting in my veins and lead by the hands of Faith.

To whatever may come.

I shall dare to face it.

Journal Archive: The Past

Running 100 km per hour. Tree after tree passes by.

Rocked by the curved and bumpy road. The car starts to jump into mid air. Run, run! Faster, faster!!

Scenes change. The clouded metropolitan city I live in, a colorful valley of flowers, a small stream where a bunch of kids play, splashing water into the blue sky.

Images. Places. Emotions. They all run through and blend into one.

Time ... it can record them all so neatly and decay them so brutally.

Sometimes I wonder if I must let myself memorize everything to just let it be destroyed

But then I realize that happiness can not be forgotten

And mistakes will be forgiven

Everything I've been through is a blessing

And I shall cherish it deep in my thoughts