The moon stepped out of the shadows,
Looking for a cloud to hide behind
So long had it stayed away from the sky that
It forgot how much it loved to flaunt it's
brilliant, white robe
It forgot how much it loved to interact with the
stars, lovers on the earth
A lost beggar, a homeless mongrel
It stayed away from the people it loved
It stayed away from people in general
And when the time came to part the veil
It lost the desire to be seen
Wanting a curtain to hide behind,
A cloud to hold on to
Anything that would efface its existence
And blend it with the dark, menacing sky behind it,
The ignominy that it hated so much
Yet now, the thought of stepping into its own halo was
so scary that it took a step back
Into the dreary nightless sky
Into the eternal abyss
It's just a step forward into fearless
freedom or one into a sheltered forgotten well
Whither goes now?

I've been itching to write about so much, but somehow thoughts have been eluding my grasp. Today was a busy day at work. Edited plenty of copies, made a page, proofed many more and basically earned my rest. But as it happens, I'm out of practice with how to spend earned rest, cos I've been so woefully under-worked for so long, it's stopped being funny any longer. Read a few blogs. Tried collecting my thoughts and thought I'd write. And of course, the focus is missing. Am rambling like always...

One more step along the world I go, and one more step the world goes around me.

Random thoughts racing through my mind. Thoughts triggered by a smell here, a sight there. Smells that haunt me forever and more, taking me back to some distant walks that are locked away in the treasury of my memory. Some regrets, but plenty of faith that whatever happens happens for the best.
A childish hope one holds on to when the going gets tough. Some comforts we never give up on. The comforts of the smells of night, of food getting cooked while still in bed, of wet earth, of a particular brand of oil, of much more.
This year is already proving to be a very long one. A lot of things have happened, so many people to have let gone, so many people letting go of me. Some back, in ways unexpected, some back in ways unwanted. A mid-term reality check leaves much desired. Much to be done and much ado about nothing.
But the journey is far from over. The destination far from reached.

Unfinished canvas

So many paintings left unfinished
With blotches here and there
Some could have been a masterpiece
Yet, somewhere, the desire to paint
Has long departed.
Once in a while, the painter picks up his brush
Only to etch a stroke and lets go of it
Over time, a half-baked canvas remains
With little sense of it was began to convey
From time to time, the painter begins again
Swayed by a renewed urge
But the colours just don't correspond to thoughts
Is it because some hues are meant for the mind alone?
Too private even for the painter's own eyes?

I looked into the mirror...

Walking down the road the other day, I picked up
a feather. I tucked it behind my ears
Thinking it made me look beautiful.
A few steps ahead, I found an abandoned earring
on a park bench. It seemed made for my ears.
I spotted a friend along the way and asked her how I looked.
She smiled, but didn't say much.
I was too excited to read meaning to the grin. I borrowed her lipstick
to complete my look.
I walked on, a bit dissatisfied. There was more I sought
And more I got. Some changes I liked,
Others I was too attached to to let go of.
A long and meandering walk later I reached home. Tired,
but keen enough to see how I looked.
I stepped into my bathroom and switched on the light.
I looked into the mirror...
...and a stranger looked back at me.

Failure

How quickly they come,
How quicker they go.

One night it all made sense
And the next was a no-show.

I woke up on the wrong side.
Or maybe I'm sleeping still

Once unspoken words were heard
Today the ruckus is out to kill.

I am right where I began
Just more beaten than ever.

For the first step is yet untaken
After a million steps together.

Patience wears thin
Trust is a forgotten word

Ears shut, only wounds open
And no soothing word uttered.

A red thin line misnamed ego
A tool for self-preservation

Fear of losing oneself completely
And succumbing to devastation.

But lethargy sinks in to the soul
Nothing to stir it from its self-doubt

No light at the end of this tunnel
Just looking aimlessly for a way out.