IF

If I ever loved her
I don’t even know it now


If I was ever hurt
I don’t find traces of it


If I ever lost something
I possess everything I ever had


If she ever left me
My life is so complete today














Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Friday, March 28, 2008 10:05 PM | 0 comments |

Counting in words

The convict waiting for the verdict he knew would be his as a merciless world forgets his name. With every sunset, he sees hope. And, he counts a few more.
He relishes the dream.
He lives on them.

The stage was set. He waits for his turn like he lived all his life for this to come. Meanings failed to bid its time. Only the words survived.
Dying each day.
So that he would live.


He unlearns the grammar. He navigates the gaps of a past he lived through words. A language he has long learnt to forget.
A dream he learnt to rewind.
Like it were a book he wrote.
Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Tuesday, March 18, 2008 9:55 AM | 0 comments |

Half-sung song the winds left behind

Empty envelopes of never-replied letters; post cards from the past left unsent. Beautiful words in calligraphy left to fade. Suppressed feelings sent back to the stockpile inside.

Like time that relax on dark nights. Not fated, yet discovering solace. Not from the darkness, but from its chime. Waking up to the hush of empty spaces left behind.

Like candles that withstand the wind. Love lost to the innocence of time. Music of silence that charms till the soul could take it no more.

He yearns for the western winds.
The half-sung song it left behind.














Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Saturday, March 15, 2008 6:39 AM | 0 comments |

Fairy tales

He finds a living person among the dead. And, a fairy among beautiful souls that passes him. Unknown and so anonymous he names them by the ships that sail by.

He loves the sea and the ships that sail. The sea doesn’t judge people. Unlike the world. Or so he thinks.

Once.
He fell in love with two people at once. He didn’t want to win. He lost like he always does.

Now.
He doesn’t want to go back. Because she doesn’t exist.

Fairies don’t exist. Their tales do.
Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Thursday, March 6, 2008 6:23 AM | 0 comments |

Poetic Fantasies

He keeps traveling. 'Nowhere’ appear on the map that lay dead in his eyes.
Just there is nowhere to go.

Addicted to poetic fantasies, he continues to abuse words. It gives him a high that takes his senses to such a height of life or lack thereof. Like marijuana.

Making him fee like the mountains
That never wakes up
Or, never sleeps. And, never has to dream.
Posted by Silenceofthedepth, Monday, March 3, 2008 4:14 AM | 0 comments |