jaan

each drop of the drizzle

like a note

to a song yet to be

written

i watch

and hear them

one by one

trying 

to catch a few

save for the sun shine

dont let them

all be gone

dont let the clouds dry

come,

back in my arms

where you were

once, where

you belong

still

dear doctor

can you possibly help me with my eyes?

when i wake up in the morning i got a blurred sight. i fail to see clearly where i have started and how it's supposed to end. i keep seeing signs, but in language i dont understand. and the map, the map i made, for a dream im bound is all messed up now...

at day time the colors fade. i feel no difference between grey and blue, but im scorched with the glare of a dying sun. i hear them, voices, all around, but when i try to look for that one face, my eyes fail me.

and at night, just before i close my eyes, a pool of water wells, making my them heavy and my spirit drained.

yes, doctor, these are the same eyes you've seen before. ones you said were young for their age. these are the same eyes that met yours... not too long ago

chronicle

someday,
i would like to find myself
in a place where yesterday
does not exist
and tomorrows do not matter

i want to live
with people with no names
and their faces plain
no fancy colors, of fame
and knowledge
only lessons learned

i want to wear
my heart out on my sleeves
without fear
that love will ransom faith
with confused meanings
and mixed up words

i want to die
while the clouds sleep
and the stars do not flicker
when the moon would be patient
to hold the gates open
till i find home, near
a place
once called heaven

when today is gone
before someday ends
find my story
at every stone hurled
my way, painstakingly
written with bleeding veins
fell and failed
the last pages burnt
as my soul rises
above whines and cries
making bright
the last
fading days

reprieve

allow me to cry
just a little
tonight, i want to taste
my saline tears
to remind me there was
a smile before
the many bitter winds

do not think me weak
when you see the tears
sometimes
the soul needs be cleansed
of jagged edges
that stale hope leaves

you shall not hear
a word of lament, not
of sad songs
i fumbled with, learning
not, of cuts and bruises that left
names and faces
to cushion the void
of vanished dreams

allow me to cry a few tears
tonight
and then let them
dry on my cheeks
to soften the withered laughters
we may never again
hear