I’m in the process of continuously damaging and re-creating myself.

To destroy is to re-create.

I have walked across many paths and heard someone said,
“You are not solely a body.”

To which I replied
“A body is just a body after all.”

The fact that I have tolerated myself to let things happened to my body keeps me up for three nights.

What went upon this body is my control.

I want to let people know that my body does not hurt them.

My body does not hurt me.

It is the only thing that makes me feel alive.

By avoiding my own body is damaging my own body.

By accepting my body and all sublime occurrences which have happened to it, I am faithful to my own body.

And after a long time of bewilderment,

I was wrong.

A body is not just a body after all.

I have a body which bears madness, insanity, affection, hurricane within.

A body is not just a body after all.

Despair often embark in a lovers joy

When the love gone missing for only a speed second

All triumph and exhilaration turns to dust and disappears into thin air

The sense of love that one feels suddenly alter into immeasurable grief

An hour of disturbed, sorrowful contemplation pass by like thousand nights of longing for a reaching hand or devoted kiss

Do not mistake fire for water

Humans in love would have cried out,

“I want to catch fire and be all burnt just to taste water again.”

Do not mistake poison for wine, for insane lovers say

“Let this bitterness reverse against any other taste upon my tongue, and let this body sick. All I want is my soul to be drunk and content with a lover’s sanity.”

Be patient when you want to be in love

And let go when you think that love is not meant to be

For love always come again

Spreading hands

Feeding souls

Overcoming ego

And finally kiss the unreached parts of solely your body.

The night is young but painful,

And the day is short but futile.

On a particular morning I asked somebody,

“Excuse me, have you ever loved someone like a child?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, have you ever loved someone like a child?”

“How is that so?”

—

How is that so, I did not know.

A child could only ask for so much,

Cry for so much,

And understand so little.

Each and every person who was born and descended into this world,
was raised by presumably different kinds of sentimental treatments and served by disparate acknowledgement of love.

A baby comes out of the womb not knowing anything at all.
How a human was treated in the times of past, what he has witnessed, and what he felt deeply -  matters in times of present.
It was almost too difficult for some people to be considered worthy and quite deserving of love
Perhaps the insecurities were total agony
But if it were agony
Why do they feel it all the time?

I suppose there are people in the world who were taught the importance of affection
And what to do about loving another
and how to construct love to be real
And there are people in the world who weren’t
There are people who are doubtless convinced about what to make of loving a person
And there are people who do not know what to do with it

Many times I lost sleep to thinking,
What do I have to give, to make a person believe the love that I have?
What quality do I have as an individual to be seen beautiful and content, therefore I can fullfil another?
Do I have the tenderness that I never witness from the way my parents loved each other?
Do I have the patience that my mother was less likely to possess?
Do I have the humane, gentle, practices of love that I never had to see?
If I don’t, would it be easy for me to present my love completely?
Do I really need to demonstrate the way I feel about a person, so that I can be trusted?

The answer is, I believe I have what it takes to love and be loved, whether I have or have not witness the act of great love in my past.

I have ears to listen to whatever uttered by another;
To listen to raspy voice in the morning,
and to weary voice at night
To the sound of whirring spoon in the thick of milk and coffee,
and to the sound of, sometimes, slashes and beatings against the door
To hear what sort of sound do kisses make
and what sort of pain does shouting bring
To recognize the noise of a cheerful laughter
and the tone of mourning weeps
And I have eyes not for looking,
but for paying attention
to every details of such vulnerability that perhaps I cannot fix

Though I do not have the divine nature or impeccable qualities of being a decent partner,
My difficulty and persistence in loving
is why I consider myself as genuine within reason

When I love,
I love with my soul
and give with my soul by all means
I hope my tendencies of being humanely difficult
and my willingness to offer mildly inconsiderable pieces of myself
will be enough to make love lasts for once

Moon Woman has always been aware of certain things.
Every night she sat by the porch, waited for the sun, and wept.
She often fantasize about a different life.
The mind of a moon woman:

“I have made a mistake in a human form. I shouldn’t let this happen. I would do anything to erase any trace about what I have done, and let it begone.”
Said the woman with a lovechild.

“I would do anything to know what it feels to have become pregnant. I would make love again, and again, and again.”
Said the woman with miscarriage.

“My mother does not want me. She hated me for everything I have not done. I would love to be anybody else”.
Said the lovechild.

“I shouldn’t let her go.”
Said the child with a dead Mother.

“Love does not exist, I can live alone and without anyone.”
Said a grown up man, who have witnessed tons of failed marriages.

“Soon, we will be accepted.”
Said the same *** couple, fighting for their rights in the world.

~

The sun has arrived,

“I have always wanted to watch the world glow in its darkness.”

The moon answered,

“I would love to see Light.”

The Sun whispered to the Moon, “My love, have you lost again?” The Moon cried, but from his pain he has become wise. “I’m fighting a losing war.”

The Sun stays silent and motionless, staring at the Moon who is in tears, “It does not matter who wins or lose. For in this moment there is no winning nor losing, there is no wrong nor right, no fool and no clever, no black nor white. There are only two things: the truth and the lie. Tell me, Love, would you rather weep in the truth or laugh in the lie?”

The Moon is resentful, mad but beautiful. He outcry. “You are the Sun. You are luminous, always manifested among solemnity, you are loved and unmistakable. The universe praise you for your light. How come you talk to me in such modesty? I am the Moon. I am wonted to live in the night and I know the darkness as if it was my own blood.”

The Sun speak, “In all conscience, it is the entity that has been through the darkness, that can truly know of light.”