The Monkey Mind

                                                  In the early morn, at a crowded underground train station, a family of three had found refuge. The ponderous environment coalesced the ancient air which smelled musty, with that of the neoteric tenant, the human smell that wafted from unwashed bodies. The poor light had become a playground where fleeting shadows played hide and seek, with the dim lamps dispersed unevenly on various corners, uninhabited as if awaiting for grim reapers to walk out. " Evermore " *whisper* Under a flickering light... ...foreheads gently met each other, small belonging to a pitifully crying child, and, broader wrinkled in grim worry, to a middle-aged man whom she desperately clung to.  Her small clumsy arms barely encircled his burly neck, yet they refused to let go, as her teary voice incessant with desper...

"I am not my own, how can I be yours..." she whispered intimately with a voice soft, emphasizing in a tone gentle, but punched hard in its truth,  it hurt, hurts still, like hell.  Even after all these days, weeks, months, and years...                                                                                                                                                                                             ...

No Tomorrow. Promise solemn rang true to my ears...,   without accompanying sound ,  with  the heaviness of its solemnity reverberating from body to soul and soul to the body, as along trembled simultaneous, the heart's temerity, I felt... the unwilling liberation of the soul and unbinding of bodily chains, like never before, as the spirit wavered, in-between the light and dark; the purgatory ...                                                                                                                                                  ...

Absence. It exists. Lurking in-between thoughts and actions, anchored under the shadow of moments time passes on, it oscillates in each breath. Breathing; in possibilities, out disappointments; what could have been and what could not.                                                                                                                                                                 (PC:scott c.) Unstoppable.  Like it's nothing, it intrudes. It rebels, it declares guerilla war against the might of stru...

 The world we perceive, understand, and interact with, has as many interpretations and their understanding as to the people who live on the planet. We see, hear, smell, and feel the fabric of reality around and within us through our dynamic senses. Yet perceiving and interpreting reality into a coherent and cohesive understanding is difficult but not impossible. As such, what we know or believe we know and its further interpretation and communication require discipline, the disciple of writing.                                                                                                                            ...

The Ideal Light "Like a moth drawn to the flame, we gravitate towards the light..."                                                                                              (PC:  https://www.pinterest.com/pin/436356651378415164/) Why do we do what we do ? Why do we admire beauty ? And in that sense what is beautiful ?   With light, we see the world, its richness witnessed by a spirit of naive wonder untainted by desires. Desires are natural to the majority of humans yet they envoke possessiveness which prevents the admirer to enjoy the moment. Thus, it is said "to desire is to suffer"  And suffering starts and continues when:  "We want what we can never have" and "even if we think we do, ...

 "...  happiness is the greatest desire humanity has craved to experience .."  An ornithologist may spend days, weeks, and months in a  mosquito-infested humid swamp just to capture a glance of an exotic avian. As such, luck plays a major role defined by his or her redeeming personal qualities and environmental viability that invites or prevents the entry from the much sought avian, leading to the momentous happiness or disappointment/depression for the ornithologist. As no man, woman or living beings are the same, the vocation such as ornithologists, for many is highly undesirable. Yet for a few, such professions is a chance in a lifetime, to understand a niche of the world, just waiting to be discovered. Like any experience, one has so imagined or been through, happiness is one that is the most unforgettably subjective.                                    ...