Category Archives: Thoughts

The flute and life

He sat next to her and played his flute. Those sad tunes still make her shiver after all this time. For a fleeting moment when he looked at her she seemed like the person he’s known all those years ago. He felt close to her, connected, and it made him feel safe. 

It quickly passed though, and the sorrow he’s known for a while now took her over again. He played the tunes he knew hoping to reach into her again.

He missed her. He missed how she would be all bubbly in the morning. He missed when they would chase each other around the house, laughing like two overgrown kids not noticing all the bewildered looks they would get. He missed the times when they would talk about their feelings without fearing all the bottled up anger. 

He only felt weak when he was alone, and that’s why he was always terrified. He did not want to disappear into the colors of the background like all the others did. But in his loneliness he already has. 

Had he the power to give her life again from what little he had he gladly would. It would all be worth it, to make what little he had really matter. He just wanted to make her wild again, make her feel alive again, and maybe – along the way – she’s be happy again. 

And it would all be worth it. 

He played his flute and she lay her head on his shoulder. It was heavy with all the weight of the world she carries on her mind. She sighed, tired and weak, and he cried, tired and weak. 

He pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “I love you,” he whispered into her ear. 

And he played his flute, as she went to sleep. 


The time to remember

I lay face down in the sands till I’m finally at peace with the scratching at my arms and the corner of my eyes.

I am not lonely, I am just spending more time thinking. I’m not depressed, I’m just suffering a deep, deep pain in my soul. I don’t know what I’m thinking, nor do I know what pain is like, because I have forgot what the alternatives really feel like.

We make small conversation, we talk about the weather and the friends we used to have. We twirl our toes as we sit cross-legged, tiptoeing around what really matters. We would like to feel ‘normal’ again, I’d like to spend time with you that is ‘normal’. We rush to avert ourselves from our reality, and devour every moment we can pretend things are fine as they are.

We try to speak of hope, but the shadow looms above us. I lie to you all the time, but it’s only because I yearn so hard to believe that lie, and you are the only one who can help me do that. Take it away from me, and you’ll just have the bare-bone remains of a man who lost all hope. I don’t want to be that man.

In a purple haze the conversation drifts to the times we try to forget. We sit in an elastic silence, threatening to break if it stretches further. It has been five years already, what remains of us of the angry, defiant young people who went out that day? Do you even remember what it feels to shout out at the top of your voice in defiance, siphoning the strength of those who stand with you like a pillar reaching out to lightening in the sky?

It suddenly gets much colder, and I shiver at the glimpses I see of the living, vibrant creature that rose from the ashes we were born as, to become something more than anyone ever imagined. I cuddle closer to you for warmth, but your skin freezes my fingertips, and send spikes into my brain as I lay my head in your lap.

We are legends no more, we are not even fantastical stories like we thought we might be. We are just whispers spoken of in the dark of nights by those cuddled around a fire, trying to realize why the fire burns cold rather than warmth.

We fall into silence again, but the stories well at the corner of our eyes. They’ll joke about it and blame us again, and we’ll die again. They don’t know that one day, we would not rise again. And the worst is, we won’t even be remembered anymore, nor will they really care.

They won’t tell our stories, they won’t tell our tales, they won’t honor our dead nor respect our remains. At the end, when the plague spreads endlessly, it will all fail and wither away like it always has. And when we fade back into ashes like we always were, the taste on the tip of our tongues will be all that remains.

And it’s worth it, a thousand times over.

There’s always time

We all recognize the passage of time and know that we all will, eventually, die. However, most of us fail to really grasp that. The truth is, most of us go through life like we will live forever. That is not necessarily a bad thing. The truth is, we do indeed live forever – until we don’t live anymore and then it doesn’t make much difference. I was one of those people, until a life-changing event brought everything crumbling down, like the dry petals of a dead flower, changing my perspective of everything completely.

Suddenly, I realized that I will not live forever. In fact, there’s a very good chance I will not live for very long. At that point, everything in my life changed. My perspective of the world, the way I approached life itself, was completely altered. I learned so many things that I don’t think I would have ever known if not for that event.

I learned to appreciate so many things that we usually take for granted, just because I’m not sure how long I will have them. I learned to appreciate every happy moment I spend with my loved ones – to truly savour it and enjoy it completely. I learned the value of a few minutes stolen out of our busy schedules to share some laughs with friends. I learned to remember those and fall back to them on bad days, and to wait longingly for the next time, if it is to come. I learned that it is often smart to take that phone call you wanted to delay because you had too much on your plate – for someone on the other side it could be their last chance to not lose the plate. I learned how important it is to sometimes decide to be late one day to work so you can have breakfast with your family.

I have learned the value of time spent with friends and loved ones, no matter what is done at that time. It could be silly laughs or serious talks – sometimes it’s comforting silence that doesn’t even need to be filled, but there’s always something special in every one of those encounters. I have learned that my friends and loved ones are the biggest gift I have been given in this life, no matter how often or rare I see them, and these slices of time that I steal are the diamonds I will have on bad days. And I have learned that nothing, nothing in the world is worth fighting or losing a friend. There’s too little time in life for that and when the dust settles, all you’ll have to keep is regret for all the time you wasted.

I learned that I was lucky with most things I was handed in life, and that is something to be thankful for. I learned that being able to work, and to believe that you are a productive unit of society and humanity, is extremely rewarding. At the end of the day, once what little time I have is over, these little tidbits are all I will leave behind and all I will be judged upon. I learned that I had two terrible years at work, followed by over nine years of wonderful jobs. If you see me complaining about that, please call me an asshole.

I’ve also learned that there were so many times when I was indeed an asshole, but I’m not really ashamed of them. In a way, I learned out of these times how to not be one, and I have strived since then to be a better person. I have learned that it is fun to try different things, that in a way we can define our lives through the number of new things we encounter and how they change us. I learned that there is good in everyone, the truth is we just often fail to see it – or don’t bother to look for it, or are too preoccupied with preconceptions to care. Once I started looking for that, everyone I met was shining bright, and my world was a much better place for it.

I learned that, when the time comes to take a stand, there is only one right place to be. Life is made of grays, I don’t believe in black and white, but there is only one right shade of gray – and that is where one should be. I have learned that very often, that shade of gray may have nothing to do with me, but that this is completely irrelevant.

I learned that I don’t want to be angry anymore. I don’t want to be hateful or vengeful or spiteful. I realized that every time I was any of those, I hurt myself more than the other person. It burns into you and even when the dust settles, the burn marks will still be painful.

I learned much to change my life and to see it through the lens of time. Above all other things, I learned time.

The drums

I miss you brother, even when I do get to see you I still miss you. We sit and talk like the old men we are becoming, rather than like the young angry youths we are inside. I guess that is their final joke isn’t it? That’s the one the spectators will laugh about the longest, the one they will remember after you and I have faded like they always wanted us to.

Something has changed in us hasn’t it? In all my memories you are dancing around like a fiery entity out of control, igniting everything and everyone you touched. You took my hand and I followed you to the frontline, knowing I might not walk back again but never caring. I am proud to have known you, proud to have stood by you, even when you didn’t see me. It wasn’t physical anymore.

I still hear the drums my brother. They wake me up, they jolt me when I’m sitting at my desk in the office, confused and disoriented. Sometimes I look out the window and I forget where we are, because you are not out there anymore brother. I still hear the drums, and I hear our footsteps to the drums as we crossed the river. Our fury was enough to bring down the bridge that day had we wanted to. Like ancient tribal beings of lust and hunger we fought through. They had woken the sleeping dragon that spurned us forward like armless berserkers and we would not back down. We stood together and they would fall before us.

I look so different today my friend. They have doused that fire in me when they took you from me. Now I’m old and dying, and when I see the look in your eyes I often consider taking my own life for failing you. I don’t regret one bit of it. If I should have to do it all again, I would do it all again happily over and over again, and live through this again and again, to be with you again and again my brother.

I can still hear the ringing in my ears, a hundred metal bars banging against the railing. We were a fearful visage to behold, while our hearts cowered in fear themselves. We knew we could be maimed, but never broken. We knew we could die, but we could never lose.

Today we are maimed, we are broken, we are dead and we are losing. They’ve sucked the life out of us when they smashed those pearls that we fashioned our dreams into into a thousand pieces. Look at us today brother. We are so much older, but not a bit wiser. The wrinkles on our faces are not marks of laughter anymore, but of the pain we bear. We kept lists till they were too long and our friends became numbers rather than names. But call on me brother and I will be there. I will be weak and feeble and useless, but show me that fiery dream again, and I will stand again by your side.

On that day

IMG_2390One day we’ll walk out into the sun again and we’ll stand together like we did before. It’ll be a peaceful, bright early morning. The midday sun will not burn us as we talk of love and dreams. You’ll speak like you did before, and I’ll smile like I did before, and the little kids running around will chase the bubbles of fantastic dreams that come out of your lips and giggle when they pop them and the colors splash on them.

On that day there will be no more tears. I won’t cry for you again, nor will I see those little pearls at the corner of your eyes as you close them in pain. There will be no place for pain anymore. There will only be us and we will be grand. We will never talk of hopelessness again. We will only talk about the small and simple things we will do, and no one will ever think they are grand. But to you and I, they’ll be ivory towers we climb to court the stars and befriend the comets.

We will smile at the passersby who will look at us, smile back and never recognize us. But we won’t really care if they know us or not. The only thing I’ll care about is you next to me my friend, and how we laugh as we catch broken bits of chatter from others out on the square to enjoy the sun. No one will ever turn their heads down in fear again, never again my friend. We will raise our heads and scream our thoughts out and the elements will bow down to our wills.

On that afternoon we will bring down all the walls. For the first time ever, we’ll finally see each other for what we all truly are – balls of blinding potential just waiting to unwind. We’ll all unwind and tangle and untangle and flip over into a maddening display of color as we trade bits and become something larger than the sum of us all. It would be a good day for all my friend. There will only ever be love for each other. It will guide all our actions and in it we will finally find deliverance from centuries of frustrated line drawing to mark our mental and physical territories.

We’ll dream into each other and become formless, we won’t care what we look like or how others see us anymore. We’ll be endless thoughts and float on an endless sea of creativity where we will be the gentle trickle and the raging storm. The destruction they bring will have no place among us. We will only ever build dream upon dream, never believing there will ever be a ceiling – and if there is one we will just burst through it and build on as we become limitless. We will finally be us. Just us. Not them or their thoughts or their demands. On that afternoon we’ll walk hand in hand, my friend, and we will be free. And only then will we know what it really feels like.

The setting sun will smile at us for all we are. We will finally become what we were born to be after hundreds of years of struggle to find our place. In that orange-red hue we will splash water at each other in the fountains of youth. We will share our tales with the pebbles and the dust for a fleeting moment before they go and spread them across the earth. For all will wait to hear of us my friend. And the sun will smile at the kids hopping through the grass where we once spilled our blood and be grateful to have seen us on that one day.

On that night, we will lay back under a sparkling night where the full moon will never set. We will defy time itself, for that day will not end, nor shall we wake up to what once was again. It will be eternal and so will the people with us. We’ll sit in a circle and hold hands as we make up songs of our glory on a night much darker than this one. We will sing of love, of our hope and for the ones we lost along the long winding road. We will sing in peace, we will sing and our voices will not be heavy with the burden that was forced on us.

On that night, it will all be ok again. It will all be worthwhile and we will know it. And we will be together my friend. We will not be stories in a dusty book or pictures on a fading billboard. We will just be us, and the world will be us.

Of loneliness

I only miss you all the time. It’s been so long, way way too long, and I feel so lonely without you. I keep hoping I’ll see you again sometime, that we will sit and talk and laugh like we used to when the world was still spinning.

I have tried to make sense of things since you’ve been gone. I tried to explain to myself why you are not here anymore. I tried to paint your face, but it’s always distorted. The colors are never right. The lines are always shivering. It’s never anything like you. I learned a lot, unlearned a lot, and moved on to end in the same spot again. Only this time, I can’t find you there anymore. I wouldn’t mind ending up here forever if I’m with you.

When it’s too hard on me, I write you letters. I write my heart out and it darkens the paper. I take one look at it and then toss it away. How can I send you something like this? I try again, I search for something to write – something to inspire your heart and make you smile again like the last time we met – but then all I have are demons swimming inside my head.

I used to write about tomorrow, now all I can write about is yesterday. You were my yesterday, you made it better, you made sense of the flow of dreams that crushed the rocks they threw at us. But when I try to write about tomorrow, it’s always lonely, and I hate the darkness because I keep thinking maybe you are there and I can’t see you – and that drives me crazy.

Sometimes I want to read to you. I mean, I know you won’t be listening, but I still want to do it all the same. The words may carry you to me, or me to you, and it would all be worth it. I never really know what to read you though. It’s all too purple, like that color a few days after you put a drop of ink into a bowl of water. It’s ugly, persistent and it isn’t going anywhere. I could read you the lies I write, I think you’ll like these at least. I think they will make you cry, then they’ll make you laugh, then they’ll make you cry again.

Once in a while, I go out walking and pretend I’m walking with you. The hard rough asphalt gives way to lush greens. I really just want to listen to you and your stories. I want to know what it’s like where you are now. I’d like to think you don’t think of me anymore. I don’t want you to even remember me, even though I can’t ever stop thinking about you.

Maybe when the flowers bloom, we’ll be together again. Maybe when the songs of the insects at night take on words we’ll meet again. Only we both know the flowers won’t bloom, and the insects don’t care about us, and all we have is sand bruising our skin now.

So for now, my friend, I sit back and talk to you again in the darkness, hoping maybe you are somewhere there. I talk to you about the weather and the shapes I see in the clouds. I would like to tell you stories, to tell you how I feel, but I can’t bring myself to do it, not after all you’ve done for me, and what I’ve done with it.

The devouring unicorn

When their swords clashed in a silvery storm, the sand beneath their bare feet shuddered. Fear. There are no two outcomes from here, only one. There is no winners and losers. The sand has already lost.

They danced around like lovers drunk on deep black ink. It flowed around them like drops of black rain and threads of hollow music. Ducking and jumping, twirling and waltzing, it all became a blurry blaze caught in the eye of the sun.

The cloudy unicorn floated lazily above them, shielding them from the burning screams of the fiery moon. There are no two outcomes here. The unicorn will feed on soul tonight. It hissed them on, tasting the angry tentacles of their souls with each clash of their swords. So close. Just a little longer before the scope down.

The sword flashed like a stealing whip out of nowhere, finding it’s soft home deep inside. There was no flash of lightening or naked nymphs. There was a silence, profound, traveling endlessly between the mountains they could not see.

The silence echoed out across the universe. Every being held its breath and bowed in reverence and awe. The deed was done the debt was paid. Now there was only chaos.

The unicorn burped as it floated lower to get drunk. There are no losers and winners here. Only a winner – as it was always meant to be. And it had no blood on its hand, just lots of it on its smile. When it spread it’s wings, it covered all the land in darkness. They both shivered, one on his feet and one on his knees, like the sun was sniffed out.

The dry sand wept blood as he crept slowly bit by bit to lie down. There are no losers and winners here. Only a devourer – as it was always meant to be. They can play their little games, speak their ages old lies, it did not care. It will always feed anyways.

Like time

I was huddled in the corner next to the bed when the spaceship swayed close to my window. Aren’t you guys stupendously late this time around? I watched lazily as the lights changed. This isn’t really as bright as I remember, or maybe it’s just darker than I remember – there’s very little I can remember anyways.

Come sit with me and read me your favorite line from that book again. Flip through and find it, I have time. I can wait as long as I’m looking at you. Just give me time, and I’ll be here looking at you. Tell me stories, you know, like that story I once told you in a delirium but never completed. Tell me the same story again, make up an ending and tell me the whole thing. You know I’ve waited for years and years to hear that ending and it’s all yours now.

It’s not unusual to be me. My hair just looks weird and my eyes have this sagging blackness around them. When I stopped time short so we may never grow old again, my body made up for it and aged at triple the speed. But I’ve still got time. At least, I hope it’s enough time to tell you the one story I actually believe. You know, that story that will change everything for you and me. And I won’t be delirious.

I love you. I love the thought of you, the presence of you. And there’s always time to love you more. As it ticks on, I’ll be fine. You know there’s nothing you can do so just relax and smile for my sake. You watch it closely like a little girl in a candy store. You watch closely and every time you see a crack, you rush to fill it up with your soul. But we both know cracks have a tendency to grow with time. You can’t fill them all all the time. You can fight but you know you’ll lose, like time.

Just keep your eyes on the spaceship. This time around, at least the sky won’t shatter to pieces again and cut my face. I’d get up and watch the spaceship too, but I’m just way, way too tired this time around. Time has painted me very differently from the last time the spaceship was outside my window.

Let’s play video games, or fly a kite, or blow bubbles or paint little dots on the walls and ceiling. Is that all right with you? Can I lean on you a bit? I’m fine but, you know, I haven’t yet made amends. We can ignore everyone else, like they never existed, as long as you have that happy look on your face.

You always wanted to play the piano. I wish you can play the piano for me today. I wish I can sit next to you and watch your fingers fly across like wild fairies. But all I can really watch is the sluggish lines made by time. It’s sticky and messy, broken even, so let’s just run barefooted straight through the grass. We won’t get anywhere, but that’s the last thing I will be thinking about.

The bright light of the spaceship outside silhouettes you, so that you may never leave the room. I’m feeling kind of broken right now, but I’m glad we broke all the rules. I’d go back and do it all over again, then break a few more, then laugh a lot more, then lie a little less, then try to make sense of the spaceship yet again. Just like time.

Fly a kite

Courtesy of poissantfamily

I just wanted to fly a kite.

I wasn’t asking for too much. I had a beautiful kite and it was in my hand. It was right there along all the dreams and hopes of a younger me. I just wanted to run across the vast emptiness, throw it high in the air and watch myself become a giant through it.

I wanted to touch all those places I couldn’t because I was so small, even though I was born to rule them. After all, there’s a reason why I never quite managed to grow up. There’s a reason why every single time I was cornered, I ran away. I had to fly the kite because I had to get a touch of that heavenly bless of leaving everything behind just for a while.

I wanted to write a million poems that I fell in love with for fleeting seconds. I wanted to tell stories that live in the prison of my mind and bang against my skull like madmen waiting to make their escape so they may dance in the undercurrents of the flowing spring. I wanted to juggle toothbrushes in a circus and kiss a bird’s beak behind the bushes. I wanted to make critters cry at the songs I write when I am laying in the tall unkempt grass of the dying garden. I wanted to get bit by a spider because, you know, it just might work.

I just wanted to fly a kite.

It could have solved everything – everything in the world. It could have made sense of the morning insanity and made peace with the maddening nights. It would have been my way out of mediocrity and into the true greatness I’ve striven for since I started looking at the stars.

Except it wouldn’t fly. Just when the wind was picking up speed, just when I was starting to run fast enough, just as my feet started to lift off the ground, it plunged straight to the leathery ground. It quickly shattered all those dreams of duality; of being man and god, of being part of the bigger scheme of things while also drawing it.

It all started slipping through my hands and all that I was left with was the elusive rain; wetting my hair and wetting the kite. Grounding us forever in the muddy remnants of what we sought to leave.

Survival struggles here, greatness dies here, and everything in between never really existed.


It’s not the darkness that scares me. I can learn to make my peace with that just like I made peace with the light before. It’s not the thought of an endlessly stretching black pearl of an existence that scares me. I have learned to deal with stuff before, there’s nothing I couldn’t handle there.

What scares me is that moment when the light starts to flicker. It is then when I start glimpsing the lurking figures at the far sides, just barely out of my sight but slowly heaving in the dark. The light flickers again and they move ever so closely, ever just out of reach, menacing me with their sightless stares.

It is right there on the edge that my fear takes hold of me. There’s no reason to be scared, says the tiny voice that’s always besides me, but I don’t listen to it. I can’t listen to it. The truth is, the light is flickering, heaving it’s final sighs before it goes off – the start of that eternal morbid storm of teary eyes streaming with watery makeup.

And they move ever closer, with their ruby eyes and deathly tentacles, to claim their prize. It’s been light for too long after all, and I have done my share of terrible things. My dreams were never mine to keep, they were just there to remind me I’m still human.

There’s nothing proud about me when the light flickers again, almost dying out but coming blinking back for one more go. Nothing proud there at all. How long has it been since the lights were bright anyways? How long since the shapes weren’t distorted? How long till it all ceases to make sense, and starts to make sense?

The lights heave one more time, it smiles sadly at me. I tried, it says, I tried for as long as I was given.

I stand, a man, and the flickering stops.