Open your heart paint your dream.
Do it in the broad daylight,
it’s your colour scheme.  
If the twilight falls on your colour plate
before you’re done painting the noon,
keep drawing down the moon!

Breakthrough at the first light.
No sunrise is any bird’s sleeping pillow.
They are on their wings, out and tweeting,
singing on the past night’s dreamscene.

Any of the fair duo, the Sun or the Moon,
sleek sunny golden or the silver line,
neither one of those can you catch.
They know their science  
like you count your time.

You can set your mind any time,
pick any number to count your time,
but you won’t have the last one.
There isn’t one, the mind is spotless fine.
But if the solar-lunar duo can count the last:
ask them to stop the time.  

Be truthful as you speak.
Open the heart into your eloquent word.
Never think you are alone, you are
complete with the complete world!

I looked at society in the eye
and asked her
why she's so flawed.

she glared at me before saying that

I cannot antagonize her
when all she did was
give identity to a lost world

I keep finding flaws
In my natural reflection
And keep searching for beauty
In my unnatural reflection
then sit and wonder
Why am I bereft
of any sort of happiness

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