Home is a place, they say.
Home is a place of comfort.
What if home is not a place?
What if home is a person?
What if...

Home gives us love.
Home gives us comfort.
Home gives us protection.

You are my home.
You said that I'm enough.
You comforted me in my ups and downs.
You showed up when no one did.
You eased my pain with your words:
"You're worth it. You're more than you think you are."

As I walked through the long and
winding road, there’s nothing but
the never-ending path.
No signs to see, no roadblocks.
The shadow of yesteryears is my companion,
that rambled on along my spirit.

I endured. I lived a thousand lives.
Yet it lingered like a plague.
I must conquer the unconquerable.
That I must strike thee.
This will not do, for I am not the
beholder of false reflection,
but the caged bird, eager to unbreak
the unbreakable.

In my hour of need, I have endured
and witnessed the consuming wickedness
upon man and its dominion.
So much so, that miracles are nothing but nought.
That the crowd became mindless maggots.
Let them sing like crows squawking.
For they can’t hear the violins playing,
the symphony a black delirium;
their hymn, from a hive-mind.

Here I am in the heart of nowhere.
I paused as I saw the two bending roads.
The blinding light spawned.
Should I follow the light?
I must persist. I must not look back.

You cannot crawl into someone’s skin,
Because it’s different to what he’d seen;
All the deluge he’d ever been, all is unforeseen…

Look at the poor fool.
Why the long face?
Is it because things
Don’t come in your own way?
The world is a comedy to those
Who think, and a tragedy to those who feel;
So which one are you,
My friend?
The Jester or the Fool?
Venture on thy own,
Or remain on the same ground.

I simply exist because I’m told so;
I don’t recall the exact time that I exist,
but simply, I’m here to speculate, nothing more;
I’m here because I’m the speculation.
Half of this canvas that hung within,
is painted through their eyes and mine;
but mine is filled with color and blue, within the corners…

With no place to call my own, I wander and reached nowhere,
Where nothingness spawned beyond my reach.
I cannot claim this as my home, for it is not where Sages go
and I have to find the way to Enigma; there, lost souls belong in the Paradox.
I’m the ghost of godforsaken, not of an Enigma, but a spectacle, never a miracle.

I see children giggled like
how little birds chirp.
How I wish roses would burst
from the barrels of guns aimed
at every minute.
I saw the news today, the Reverence
talked of peace between the militia
and the peacemakers of the territories.

We treat a person as if he was
a Stranger in a Stranger’s Land.
I stare at them and reflect that
they are the blood of my blood.
Whom our forefathers shared
a meal with and shed blood.
The gods would abide if we talk
peace when we have the chance to harm
our brothers and sisters.

May this be our good will.
I remember the words.
I saw the killings of innocent sheep
in the time of crisis and changes.
The soul yearns for the outer voice.
Remember me, I say, when time changes…

The lone man ventures the path to the unknown,
and to the unknown he went alone…
From there, he trekked the shadowed Valley of Death,
where bleakness was raw within, and
it swarms lost souls of their own mischiefs and miseries…

There, nothingness spawned.
Time does not exist, but nothing is absolute.
Plains and jagged paths, all but nothing to last.
He stood there in the crossroad,
where the absolute was over the horizon of
impossibilities and possibilities…
No Sages to come and see, no Forseer to oversee.
Nothing.
Without heed nor light, he strode towards the dead of the night.
The Lone Man walks along the crooked road…

As I trek through the valley of the shadow of death,
I rolled my boulder and leaned on, heaving it,
‘till it rest and roll, untouched on the *****…

I strode forward, and stood beside it;
quieted by the deafening serenity…
As I push and lean, I averted my gaze,
and pondered, on when it will come to an end…

I no longer see
The purpose of your role
When you betrayed us,
And others altogether
As if we’re lowly like
Maggots in the eyes
Of common men.

You’re no Guardian
O’ mine, whence the
Moment you laid
Upon that Hand o’ yours
That bludgeoned this
Childlike glee, wakening
A great sense in me that
You have the face of Janus,
But you do not embody
All beginnings;

It was all but nought,
Making a fool out of me
As if I’m an imbecile
To canonize yourself
As a Patron Saint of Fairy Tales
In which a venerable testament
To those dogmatic scoundrels
That borne the blood o’ *******
Which flows in their veins…

So you, are no Paragon, but a Fool-Saint
And speak no Tongues of Fire;
But full of air and a thorny tongue
That snaps like a whip
Hence, a brute, an imp
That is an uptight ****,
A Guardian to the so-and-so’s.

Birth is not the beginning, and Death is not the end…

In each new unfolding, there is a folding chapter;
When another begins and another ends…
Like a book or an epic, a poem, life itself has its own beginnings and endings;
All is blessed and given to those who deserve it, and those undeserving ones deserved hell or suffering.

A grand epic needs a hero; it can be broken, or not, the passion burning in its heart is to save its race and the universe;
Against all the odds and sacrilegious things that possesses evil doers and such, to sin against oneself and others.
The forces of evil and good clash, fighting for a goal that must be implemented and observed.
In each turn of events, Death lures to collect the souls of the ****** and the fallen.
The Hero achieved his goal and won, but at what cost?
Out there, far from his own universe, evil does its thing again, plotting to drown him down to his demise and have him taste his tragedies and his own medicine.

Sometimes I wonder about when this would come to an end, for I have read too much tomes and scrolls, with heroes in them, brave and all, mightier and courageous…
A Hero needs subordinates…
What do I have?
Nothing…

Aside from that, I have a thing in mind that is sure to help me cleanse the world: Hope.
But what kills Hope?
Mortal Sin…
Death,
Plague,
Conquest…

Oh, I wonder when this would come to an end…?

Today might be a day full of horror and misery,
Tomorrow, the clouds will clear and a band of rainbow would stretch.
Yesterday is a history, Now the masses are celebrating.
Today, we work on something that happened from Yesterday, and grow, blooming…
Tomorrow is a mystery, waiting for us to unveil and welcome.

No one lives in the now, for we are preoccupied of thinking about Tomorrow.
We have too many questions to ask the Universe, but the Universe cannot reason, nor reply…
Only us can resolve, and rebuilt ourselves. We must take it one step at a time.
Everyone is not on the same boat,
but we are one in the same route or course, journey, and expedition.
Our experiences matter and differ, but it does not matter, for we are in our own element.
No matter what we are and what is our past is, does not define our future, for we can change it now without worrying about Tomorrow and its consequences.

We often claim to be problem solvers,
but we had a hard time to speak of the matters or dilemmas we are in.
It must be a reminder to take care of ourselves and be kind to ourselves and others.
Despite the consequences, we are what we are, and we can change the course of our lives.
There are people who dreamed to sail the coast or the isles, to the islands of dreams.
Many a sailors reached their destinations.
A lot did not made it, and accepted their fate through Amor Fati.

Tomorrow, there will be would-be, or wannabe sailors who will be renowned for, or not.
All it takes is courage and the love of our fate, and to ourselves, then to others who supports us.
The ingredient to a better life is not how succesful we are, but on how we loved ourselves and on how it changed us in a blink, or within the rest of our lives.
If the experiment or recipe did not work, we must find an alternative to produce,
in order for us to proceed.

Typhoons, Whirlwinds, Whirlpools, they’re our enemies, and it’s unavoidable.

Rest is an essential part of our routine.
We must rest in order to proceed and reach our destination.
We must set sail if we are ready, not if when it’s necessary.
Good things come to those who wait.
Patience is what makes our progress work.
If the Universe does not let it happen Today, we must try again Tomorrow.
Figure out the errors and persevere.
For Now, a rest is necessary, for us to fuel our engines of ambitions.

It struck me like a blow in the face,
The cold truth naked before me.

I’m not a Strongman,
But a Muse,
A Bard;
My Verses are sung by the Masses.

I am but a Man who stands before ye;
Those who came before me, asks the age-old wonder:
“Has it always been this way?”

Ah, the sentiment of innocence!
What pure joy it brings—
I feel overwhelming glee.

We giggled and laughed
Until the day is over
And the moon rose from the growing darkness.

I was a prince from the kingdom of Happy Land.
I’m the heir to the throne of prosperity.
We’ve entered the Golden Age.
I’m the Hero,
The Lionheart Knight,
The Voice of the People.

An Oracle foretold me
About this task called Ouroboros.
Life and Death.
Birth and Rebirth.

The All-Seeing-Eye never tell lies.
I must overcome the monumental task.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Life.” The Oracle said. “Defeating it is a remarkable feat.”

I’ve slain monsters and creatures.
Yet here I am. Doing taxes and awaiting Death.
I miss my glory days in Happy Land.