The Still Stonehill and the Angry Sea

stonehill sea

Teach me how to be still, for you’re a stonehill;
and I want to be the calm earth beneath you,
not an angry sea

Show me how to be clear and blue, like the sky above you;
not a tempest that fulminates, destroying
everything and herself

The stonehill stands tall, unmoving
The sea waves on his feet, undulating
Angry, she is always, scraping with lesser hope each day
While he mounted uphigh, fixed on the land far away

Earth absorbs water, the hill mumbled, then what are you doing?
Crafting a hole into your core, the sea answered.

You’re wasting your time.
Yes, I am.

Then why bother?
Because I believe I can.

(And then the hill ignores the sea. There’s so much to think about already.)

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Traumerei

Yellow_Summer_by_larafairie crop

But life is never dull in your dreams.
“Mary Jo”, Belle and Sebastian

I dream in technicolor:

The field is always brighter than yellow and the sky is the bluest of the blue;
The meadow is a cheery viridian and glittering with beads of morning dew;

Through the grass and pasture the wind whispers softly;
In the middle where I stand, blending with tranquility.

Inhaling the crisp air, I admire the view;
A flawless landscape, almost lovelier than you,

My dress is fine, woven in black,
Dancing, billowing, swaying along with my track;

I don’t mind lingering there, for I anticipate,
Solely for a man who is worth the wait.

You make your way through, smiling like the sun,
Stare with your soothing eyes the color of a dun;

Your palm is warm, my feet are bare,
As I lead your hand to our secret lair;

To where we’ll be eternal, an unbreakable seam;
To when the two souls adjoint in one dream.

And then the morning comes, and I’m awaken with a start,
Eyes thick with sleep, still with rapidly beating heart.

When will I meet my fate, I never knew,
‘Cause no matter how vivid, the dream is untrue.

All I got is this lonely life,
Which I have to face alone in order to survive.

And how sad the fact is, God as my witness,
That dreams are the only place I can find
my true happiness.

I need a place where I can make my bed, a lover’s lap where I can lay my head.
‘Cause now the room is spinning
The day’s beginning.
“Atlantic”, Keane

– June 28 2008

 

I’ll Be

print-sunlight-clingy-animals crop

I’ll be the polluted air you inhale almost everyday in your way to work that always make you cough;

I’ll be your flower-patterned pink blanket that comfort your sleep and keep you safe and warm through the night;

I’ll be those dreams when you wake up all weird and fuzzy as you cling into your sheet and you still can’t remember what it is all about;

I’ll be the song you quietly hum when you are in the bathroom doing your business and staring at the four plain walls;

I’ll be that annoying destructive virus in your computer you can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try;

I’ll be the first drop of rain falling to your nose you hate as you walk under the murky grey sky;

I’ll be the rust in your green car bumper that you’ve scratched and scraped but just won’t budge;
I’ll be the one who pester you at noon and haunt you at night.

I’ll be, I’ll be,
the death of you.

– Unknown date, 2008