it was these moments,
these little moments
that the world may never know
and may never notice,
that i wanted to capture.
i prayed to God
that if these moments
are not meant to last forever,
may he freeze it.
may he let me feel
that these moments of
walking in the rain,
sitting on a coffee shop,
our long conversations in silence
or getting lost in the middle of a sleepless street just to find our way home,
may feel like a lifetime.
because it is in these simple, silent and hidden moments with you
that i always pray to live.
You are the shine of the sun
Along with the early morning breeze
You are the dew drops from the grass
And the morning song of the sparrow.
These things are made out of you.
But always a melody;
An unending beauty.
I thank God I woke up
Illuminated by your shine,
Feeling your breeze,
Quenched by your dew
Abd hearing you sing:
It sucks how at times the things I write lose the spark in them. Perhaps, the very reason is the person(s) behind every letters and words. When the very person that becomes the sole reason of writing is still around my life, the little piece that I made is, as if, has its own life. But when the person leaves, the piece that I have written becomes lifeless. A soulless body. Words without meaning.
This is the reason why, at times, I get tired of writing. Friends will tell me, “Oh, you just have to find someone who will inspire you.” For many years, it was also my outlook- that I can only write when there is someone beside me. That there is someone that I can write for. For many years I’ve been like this. For many years.
Don’t get me wrong. I am still into writing. I still keep bunch of poems, essays and even songs that I made from the past with all those memories from different persons. But from now on, I have to remind myself that I have to write not really for the person that I only love. I have to write because I love writing.
Who knows? Perhaps all the letters and words that I painted on my paper will all be worth it. I believe that those person who came into my life were but commas. They were just a mere moment of pause. Perhaps all the masterpiece that I made will boil down to that one person who is meant for me until the last period that I will make in this life of mine that I am continuously writing. She will put all the question marks, the exclamation marks, the commas, the quotes into a single period. Because that person, whoever she is, is the epitome of my writing. The most august of my masterpiece.
And I have started to write about her.