You are in every songs i hear,
in every roads and highways.
Never had i asked for this, but you are in my vein;
strangled yet i can feel the tranquil beneath it.

You resembles a form of nature, that i look for you in every trees i encountered,
from in between the leaves & purple lilacs.

Sticks & branches dance merrily listening to my heartbeat — beating for you.

And i can only pray for this one forlorn heart to stop from beating for you.

It only hurt so much when you are my serenity yet you, too,
bring down the storms upon me.

Despite the hurricanes that tampered my peace of mind,
you are still the love of my life — though you’re no longer my home.
You are now a piece of unbalanced memories.

To put that pieces together again, i need to let you go.

November has burn the bridge of bliss.
Uncertain of the circumstances,
I am now engulfed with the misery
that comes in beautiful waves.
This November resembles a prejudiced game;
for whatever stage I am winning,
I am actually losing.
There are no medals and crown awaiting;
still I run fast only to let my chest hurt.

Through the dots of life,
I used all the strength I own to trace it;
like a mere traveler.
Never had I possess a courage to sketch lines to my desire.
So, I step back to see the trail of that dots.
We are disconnecting;
detaching, that is what we are.

You are now gone;
becoming a piece of unbalanced memory.
November has burn us to the ashes in the air, yet
I am still here, trying to not let the ashes from ceasing
in hope for it to rebuild us once again.
With this small poise of hope I gather,
I know – eventually these ashes will form itself a better sculpture;
a pleasing, aesthetic one.

Be that as it may,
I shall keep the ashes; a piece or two
to mould this shattered grail I had for both of us.

For all I need is faith,
For all I need is faith.

The night comes down upon our aching hearts.
Whilst the freedom of letting you into my own parade has cast off our pleasant life, you remain elusive to make your tears soak through the dark disguise.

Like that disc of sunshine,
it was my fate to know that everything
I hold dear has already been defeated.

I hide it away from our first caress.
I hide it away in a distant nightingale.
I hide it away for the time of all-sufficing laughter.

When the first Norman leapt upon the wall,
we shall not be sweated from our deep unspoken prayer.
Hidden under some prodigious words;
we have lost the key to world’s happiness.

I hide it away from the blithe birds,
I hide it away from our deep blue silence,
I hide it away to give us more flawed interpretation.

Time has left unpaged
and i shall never mourn
when you were allowed to drive away.

Tomorrow will rise,
you may stand repealed
when we were bound by decaying seasons
keeping us safe from damnation,
that you may even own little life for good.

When your swain rejoiced,
I will always remember that dreary body of
blasphemous and fearful deeds
of dauntless courage.

Time will continue wishing for a thousand lights.
You will be forever remain composed
by the grace devotion of years that burn
in our eternal vessels.

But if this rarity were not meant to last long,
I will always recall the innocence of youth
that plays upon our clouded azure skies and windless air.

Here’s to the one in a flash existence;
The one with a very warm yet alluring smile, never the one who complain over things.
The one who draw breath from another non-horizon dimension as the sun rise,
and diminish as the sun sets.

Here’s to the one exists in favour, like a day dream,
yearning to not wanting to wake up
perhaps, to stay awake but wanting to be half-asleep.
Your presence; I am filled with compassion or the warm feelings.

But, just like a motion of lights,
you exist only in my swift transition of life.
Things are moving too fast between the two of us
that I can feel the exhaustion of catching breaths
just set right in the middle of mellowing nights.


Like dandelions, I am wishing you well and letting you go
my favorite mere traveler.
From country to another country,
from borders to borders.

You; a sweet instant memory, a time tide, an oceans of vivid picturesque

Time does a lot.
It heals, it breaks, it mends, it interrupts,
but never to reciprocate.

Through the darkest hours,
The hollow streets become more apparent
and not only breaks,
but shatters me.
Hope are deemed to have unoccupied meaning
Hope has lost its vivid sanity.
Like the oceans, it drifts as the courage to believe
is never to near.

Though the glorious moment starts to wash away the pain,
soul refreshed, heart and mind to start wondering
where did the sorrow creeps in, and turn it
into something more beautiful,
never will I forget how dark hours existed
in me,
perhaps through me.

How mesmerized I am by the way it shaped me,
how the shatterings made me whole again.

And as time goes by, I believe its the shatters
that will make me whole again.

Flowers wilt upon the lacks of water,
upon the un-warmth of sun,
upon the non-existence of fresh air.

Though what the tough ones
can pass through the storms and reckless shadows
awaiting to be beaten up by flashes of circumstances
albeit rather slowly
I will be sitting here watching
as this moment pass by.

For I know the weak one is not actually weak,
but those are the one who crawls into darkness
to grow and flow,
to reap and sow,
only to be beautifully turned into the sunshine
we always praised for.

We then realized that it is actually the beginning blooms for the tough ones.

And by that, time measures everything, witnessed every thing.

After storms and hurricane.
After emotions were beaten up by waves of rage.
After few calculations that is being said near to impossible
to reach a definitive answer,
we were left with nothing more to bring to light.

Despite the vast emptiness of space,
of blurry images,
some things are meant to be neatly kept.

That is, the honor of us.
The ties upon the feeling of us being friends, family,
maybe even more.

For the remembrance of occasions we created along the way,
piece by piece of it, will I keep
and will not be ceased
nevertheless the lacks.

After all, to be a fool is to regret
the failed maneuvres that we accidentally picked up
across the destinations.

For the flowers that are deemed to wilt
will be long-lost forgotten
after the new one has bloom.

As life revolves, some things are accidentally left behind. One thing that will always be the agonizing part of life; flashbacks.

Life spins way too fast. If human were to pick up where they left behind, they are adjudged to be lost all along the way. It is acceptable that some things are better to remain the way it is.

But, this is not it.

This blissful pain, this constant twinge, this abrupt strain.

They remarkably said,
“Find the comfort in one’s belief”.
An aid it is but a recovery,
Or a pleasure in one.

Tell the whole world that you are in the
room of rapture.
Of glee.
Of delectation.
But how distant can the reach of words be heard?

Now that the frontiers are all set,
dividing the esplanade.
As you feel unbalanced,
you count a step back,
to concede each and every stones
that lies in within the pathway.

And you started to assemble a resolution.

Suffocated by pools of exhaustion,
You go back to remain alive in the image of
broken mirrors.

Slowly, then all at once,
You lose it all.