Run

I went on a run today.

Plugged into my portable disco, the first few steps felt effortless. Pretty soon, the smooth blend of vinyl and electronica eased its way into my step, and nudged my still-lively steps into a synchronised prance. I had this faint recollection of myself sitting in a pub somewhere, my lungs panting slightly in the dank blend of machine and tobacco smoke and my eyes squinted against the incoming neon arrows. I was chillin' then, but that's exactly how I feel now -- on the run.

My music was an easy chillout mix from the Ministry of Sound. And how fluid this electronic whisper was, always giving in easily to the demanding rigidity of the run yet nudging my mind to disengage from the physical experience. Come hither to a universe of bubbled tranquility. Oh I was in my own world, breathing with and to this intimate electronic heartbeat. Step upon step, the fragile bubble of peace reinforced itself and reassured my mind of its continued existence. But all it takes is for a familiar sound, one that synapses with emergency, anxiety and danger -- any sound. The bubble is burst, and my peace is assasinated. Within a few scattered steps and panicky glances, I regain my form. Within those few scattered steps, my ears are captive to the hypnosis of my chillout mistress.

The music, she is like my guide.

As the run wears on, I become accustomed the enveloped tranquility and grow more aware of my body. I noticed that I run with a perculiar emphasis on my right side -- only a slightest hint of over-exerting on the master-limbs. Ah, the traitor is in the swinging napsack strap. The right strap appears to have a life of its own and clings to my right sleeve on each upswing of my arm. My left is expectedly indifferent.

The music, she is like my lover.

She is fickle, but she has my attention. She plays a tune to me just long enough for me to begin appreciating its exoticness; then she leads me on with a trailing rhythm, only to coax me into a different song, so that I would miss the one just past. She knows how to stir my blood with a simple and subtle change in tune and rhythm. She holds her pace just long enough for my breathing to catch on. She lets me work my body with one she throws to me. Then subtly, I am at her mercy, because I cannot move to another; she works me now, to a different beat. And she makes my heart want to race, with this subtle change.

With and for my music, I run faster.

Then, she leaves.

And I am where I started. Home.

I went for a run today.

I returned from a journey instead.


JKLM

Only A Feeling

Love is perhaps the greatest of all illusions.

It appears unnecessary at times, even unwanted. At others, it can bring a man or even a nation to its knees. Legions of tough-nailed soldiers have shed more blood than gained glory in the name of their enamored ideals, be it in a person, a hope, or an abstract concept of a preferred way of life.

It is no doubt good friends with its dark neighbours, and enhanced both ways by romanticism. The great vehicle on which love rides is a royal mare, untarnished even in the damndest weather or unforgiving terrain. And on this mystical creature, even the most hollow of ideals will glow with a commanding halo, shining a truthful light and generously handing out gifts of its easy-going relative: hope. Ah... the right words and images at the right time can indeed work "miracles". Of course, they fool the eyes and mind too. The heart? Isn't it always a willing participant in these affairs?

Well, love is more than a feeling. That is, my opinion of course. I may have been hurt and bruised through my cursed quest for a receipient of my over-romanticised emotions; it is with the same obvious fragility and mystical strength that envelopes love, that I approach life. If I cannot love a person, I shall try to love life. Well, that may include selling my soul to the next higher bidder, but then again, I'm not one for flings. I'd love each turn I take along this road as if it were the last in my journey, for truely, I can't be sure. And it is only through such pain-staking extents of giving that I have little to regret.

And yes, happiness will find its way. She always has found a way of visiting her children after her darker relatives have swept by. Kiss time and make up. No, I don't have such a luxury at this point. I'll probably just settle for kissing life to make up. For surely, she will return this romantic gesture.

===============================

It was a good day today at work. I think I could live this life; I could live my work.

No, I'm not running away, not like last time. Perhaps I'm just running back, and running along with what I ought to have been doing in the first place.

===============================

Happiness is always around the corner.



JKLM

Thread

I'm disoriented, and hanging in the balance again. The familiar invisible thread holding my sanity and capabilities in the balance. My entire being seemed to be compressed into a haphazard package, bulging through gaps and spilling through nearly-torn seams. All this, from work alone.

So many times this week, I thought that I might have erupted; or melted down in an slow sickly manner, oozing into a fetal puddle on my carpetted hell not daring to move, because it would neither change anything nor make things any better. How and when did it get so difficult? Why didn't I see it coming? Damn...

These days, I don't even have time to fulfill my proper scope of work. Not that I haven't been working hard, my problem lay in the fact that I was not working smart, as always, ending up as the general office lollipop -- the official sucker. Too compassionate to say no, yet too meek to insist on being unreasonable, the frustration was inevitable. I failed to read between the lines because I had assumed that whatever damages would have been easily contained. And now, I'm stuck hanging on a thread again, struggling with problems that are not entirely mine.

I guess it's better than hanging because of problems that ARE mine. But that time will come sooner than I think, if I carry on like this. Gotta get back in focus, get back of track. Get back to some engaging fun -- get back to me. Recover the parts that this overloaded sum is made up of.

And stop all this nonsense that still hijacks my quiet in-between times -- a silent creeping poisoning of the raw spots, made all the more perversed with its personal feel. The wounds are still open, the nerves are still raw. And I'm too tired to fend them off constantly.

Not now, not now, please... At least you're BOTH still happy.

My turn now. With or without you.

====================================

Oh hazel eye in the lazy sky
Where do you roam
Why do you cry
Oh please don't cry

Ignore my questions
Ignore my whys
Remember your fashion
Remember your sky

Oh hazel eye in the lazy sky
As you quietly trail
Along your binding line
T'is slow, but you still fly



JKLM

Would You?

Watching movies and reading books stir my imagination, always. The resurrection of these restless electrical symphonies between periods of stifling routine persuade me to believe what I see. Yes, I'm a romantic. And I like it this way.

I guess that's why I'll keep on moving; keep on dancing even after the music stops.

If I asked you to dance again, would you? Would you dance with me, for the music? Would you dance for me, with the music? In that common hedonistic realm, we were not strangers.

Not much regrets.

I know that I still love you. But it'll be alright. This is your way, and this is mine.

There's a place I've developed a longing for. As with my search for answers, there is hope in evntuality. Oh, but the want, it makes me itch so. My eyes have opened a little more with each step in the journey, and my heart has discovered beauty everywhere.

I'll get there, eventually. I just hope that I will find you when I'm there.

Sleep for the dreamer
Pain for the poet
Blood for the fighter
In us all, they riot



JKLM

The Happy Knight

Meet Sir Knight
With armour bright
Rivaled by only his charm.

Not even the night
Can smother his light
His valour – the bane of harm.

Steed noble right
Sword ready to smite,
Any enemy within an arm.

T’is Sir Knight
Our hero who fights
To keep us safe from harm.

For King and land
He'll make his stand
Like glass, his loyalty clear.

Oh, but for Queen or land?
His heart a dent
For both are just as dear.

Like a letter wrongly sent
A gap that cannot mend
His love was what he feared.

The day a royal man
Came calling: The King has sent!
He hadn't the slightest idea.

Years of experience,
Of service, of patience
Told him praise was within reach.

With noble defiance
He strode to Her indifference
And found his heart at his feet.

Oh such a vision
Her regal appearance,
Disaster if she should ever weep!

Beyond any infatuation
Sir Knight's devotion
Transacted in one fell sweep.

So changed a story
That started out happy
About Sir Knight, a shining example.

Who became all sappy
In the name of love's glory
Because he made a Queen his temple.

T'was a tragic folly
To steal the royal cherry,
To taste a desire from the royal table.

But he couldn't see

Beyond perceived duty

To love and protect all that was valuable

He honoured his Queen

She humoured his whim

And wound his noble pride around her finger.

Though with the King

She looked at him

Sir Knight, like she did no other.

But doom's dreaded sting

Came one spring,

When the Queen insisted stopping this fever.

Oh what a royal fling

What a dramatic ending

Sir Knight was still in love with her (royal highness)

So back to his armour

As a chivalrous dreamer

Sir Knight tried to forget about her.

JKLM