Flipping coin

The crackle of clove and tobacco,
Ephemeral smoke wisping by.

In another place, another life, another time

The crack of dawn in the dusty sky,
Rubble shuffle 'neath soles run dry.

In another place, another life, another time

Shut eyes crack open amidst clean air,
The alarms ringing time to go.

In another place, another life, another time

A tear trails a crack down the cheek,
No time to sleep simply weeping.

In another place, another life, another time

A creaking pinprick of light from dark,
Last breath heaved as we depart.

...

Time alone is always golden. Solitude and loneliness the perfect reagent. What magic is weaved in lone reflection. The alchemy of the living heart in introspection. Space and time may fall apart, as the spirit wander with the heart. Guiding light of the Single star, for paths tread amid twilight. No soul as an audience to be found, except those whose bodies have been ground. In the darkness of the night, can the dimmed Light shine bright. With too many lights showing the way, where do we go, do they know the way? Shut out the lights run by Man, dive deep into water and desert sand. Time alone is always golden, take back what's yours that has been stolen.

Smoke and mirrors

Day in, day out. That seems to be the assumed and conventional mode of living. Somewhere along the way, the spark in an individual to grow, learn, experiment and explore has died. It's a scary thing, for me especially.

The liberties of life are afforded when we realize the temporal nature of our existence, the purpose of our external environment and the teachings of introspection. If not, we become disillusioned in our pursuit of a semblance of financial stability, as a means to happiness? I'm not sure. Our mind tunes out the sounds of our vast world and tunes to the frequencies that facilitate this pursuit.

Dreams flutter out of existence and ambitions are beaten to a pulp. Follow the way! You can't do it. It's unrealistic, you're better off doing this. How are you going to feed yourself.

And everyday, the sun rises, the wind blows and the leaves dance. The audience is missing, but the show goes on... For the few that is still awake.

Gravity

The nature of gravity is that it keeps us down, the difficulty in ascending tells us this much. Grounded to the floor in order that we do not endanger ourselves and such, trivial reasons, all of them. The reality is the nature of such phenomenon. The perceived consequences are merely an accessory for our understanding and appreciation.

I suppose, to conjure an argument against nature for our purposes is a thing that we humans do instinctively. Blame the rain for days when we want to be out, the sun when we are out, our appearances or intelligence for our failures and successes and et cetera. Yet, the moment we step out of this visceral bubble that is our well being, we see different justifications for nature's behaviour, sometimes drastically distant from our self importance.

My point is, this myopic view of the world clouds our judgement on what is right and wrong, for these judgments are more often than not, made at our behest. How then do we adjust knowing that our actions are merely ripples in a great ocean of actions and reactions?

You follow those you deem best. It is without a doubt that the best inherently have within them the capacity for values that are admirable and worth emulating. It is highly likely that between their set of values, and ours, lie a valley of differences, of polish and refinement. If we are to follow those we deem best, it becomes necessary that we too must change, to attain their polished and refined values. Therein lies gravity, the reluctance to move forward, and to remain stagnant and below instead.

Is it not our nature to rise?

See through

Photographs are directed, curated, edited and adjusted according to the perceptions of the photographer. The end result is that we see what they want us to see, the imagery a canvas for our thoughts and emotions, yet indirectly shaped by another.

Do we really see what we need to see?

The notion of witnessing plays a large role in how we craft our perspectives. I bear witness. There is no other person that can replace the personal experience of witnessing, no outsider, only ourselves.

Have we seen what we claimed to see?

I'm not sure. Can you deny something you have witnessed? Can you reject a truth plainly told? Reading about the past, it seems so. Strange, yet frightening.

Dance

A droplet on th lily leaf. Moving in whatever direction th leaf shifts. A leaf among many in a pond. Moving in whatever direction th water laps. Every movement an inevitable consequence of a cause, and it regresses over and over. To what end do our limbs move, our thoughts form and our emotions feel for, what cause can hold sway over them? The gentle winds, the passing gusts, the terrible hurricane or the expansion of the universe? Our sensitivity to the cause determines the amplitude of our displacement, our place and our placing. For one connected and sensitive to the greatest of causes, they movement embodies the great, the mighty and the minute. Within the expansion of the universe, lies worlds trembling in hurricane storms, even in storms there are pockets of rushing gusts, and even still, there is a place for the soft Breeze. Worry not that your movement is insufficient, look beyond and move to the greatest of Movers.

Numbers

Flakes of rust slowly quivering in the wind.

Cold rubber tires reluctantly lifting of the tarmac.

The silence that follows a door creaking open.

Overwhelming dark when the lights switch off.

The hardest defeat is being beaten by yourself.

The incidences described above resonate a weight, a solemness that is caused by the object itself. The corresponding effect is an inevitable outcome of the object's circumstance - natural, self-prophesized. 

Thankfully, things change in time.

By the Time. Verily, Man is in (great) loss. Except for those believe, and does righteous good deeds, and invites one another to Truth and invites one another to the Patience.

Castle of Dreams and Reality

The beating Heat, the pouring Rain.

Look up into the Sun, look down to your Earth.

These are the instruments of Toil and Joy;

Inspiration to weigh our deeds and worth.

Through the elements, we sneak a peek,

Into the Reality of Creation and Destruction.

Two inseparable faces of the same coin, 

Dual forces moulding but Our function.

I stand atop the soil that is me,

I feel the Sun and the Rain. 

The elements remind me of my barren state,

They teach through heartbreak and pain.

Alas, to Him do I still rely and return,

This clay can never harden without the Sun,

This clay can never soften without the Rain,

But a base, the castle is made by One, for One.