“…looking at the stars always makes me dream.”

I confess I do not know why, but looking at the stars always makes me dream.” – Vincent Van Gogh.

I know why, Vincent.

The stars are faraway.

Shining in the distance.

Some shine brighter than others.

Some shine before others.

Some shine all through the night.

Some fade mid-way.

Some guide humans into the right path.

Overall, they all exist. Stars exist.

You can’t always see them,

but you eventually do.

You might lose sight off them when it’s too dark.

It might be too cold, too windy, too cloudy for you to look up and gaze at the illuminating sky.

it might be time for the sun to awaken and fulfil its duty.

But you eventually meet the stars,

even if they are miles away.

Dreams are like that.

I look at the stars and I dream too, Vincent.

Because dreams are like stars.

I’d like to think that no matter how much distance I have left to reach my dreams, they still exist, just like the stars.

Sometimes it becomes all blurry and dark and I lose motivation,

but the next day, week, or month I can still get up and fight.

I can still look up at my stars and dream.

I can still gaze into my bright existing future, Vincent.

This is why, Vincent.

This is my why.

Where life is lived in half. 

A chain of mountains,

Peaks of snow;

Dividing two lands,

Two kingdoms,

Each living in isolation.

One kingdom facing the East,

The other facing the West.

Its people did not dare to

Cross the borders to

Reach to the other side 

Of the rocky eminence;

It was forbidden.

The law that was never broken.

She would witness the sunrise,

The soft pastel colors of the sky,

The singing of the morning birds,

The tight chill of dawn. 

The adrenaline fully charged

For the ebullience of the day.

But since the mountains

Were magnificently high, 

After noon the sun would no longer

Be seen by her hazel-colored eyes. 

She had always thought that 

Sunset was defined just before noon. 

But He,

He knew of sunset.

He knew of its fiery skies 

And its violet flames.

He knew of its fireflies and

Its chirping crickets of the night.

He knew of the calmness of 

The dark as it laid its bed 

Over the daylight. 

But true sunrise, 

That he did not know,

Only the one that comes 

Right after noon. 

Sad, don’t you think?

If only the mountains 

Would digest itself 

Or move elsewhere, 

Perhaps around the two kingdoms

Rather than between them.

If only. 

But Life will not be content 

Unless it forms obstacles 

For one to tumble down and struggle

And see how much 

Something is significant to one’s heart.

Well, She’s halfway to that

Cold frosty summit,

Hoping someone there 

Would be waiting for her

To share the true testimony 

Of the Star of the day. 

Reflections – The light and the shadows. 

The thing is, if you allow the light to enter, no matter how much you control the spotlight switch, it’ll shine all the way. 

You can’t just expect the light to shine slightly or focus on one area and not reflect back and illuminate the whole room. 

The light. My emotions. Synonyms.

I take it back. I should’ve just left my emotions empty and dark. 

I should’ve just let the shadows wrap me up and bury me alive. 

Stars of the night

At night

Just before the stars aline

My tangible self

Transfers 

Into a spirit-like form.

It soars into the sky

Like Aladdin’s magic carpet

So swiftly and effortlessly

Blending with the wind 

Twirling around the street lights

Causing a flicker or two.

And once the first star shines

I sit on the front row 

Admiring the performance of the night

Where they appear 

One after the other

Like a script memorised so perfectly

Until they finish the show

With a last glow at the same time

And I find myself waking up

On a sofa near the window

To see the stars give out 

One…last…bow.

Drift compatible.

We do not need 

A neuro device

Electrodes and wires

To merge

Our two individual 

Minds, hearts, and bodies

To one entity.

We already existed as one;

We existed as halves

That fit congruently.

While he makes up the right side

I make up all the left side.

And for those of you 

Who have passed biology

Would understand that 

The left side cannot function

Without the right part of the brain

And vice versa.

We are compatible.

Virtually, realistically, physically,

Mentally, and emotionally compatible.

But we needed some kind of drift

An impulse to drive the blood

From his ventricle to mine,

A build up of events

A build up of flooding emotions

A collision of hopelessness,

That would revive our dying souls,

That would activate our compatibility.

But I have never seen him.

I would need a mirror to do so.

The world that we live in 

Do not approve of mirrors.

Even glass that gives off reflections

Is banned.

Just when my self 

Has truly become complete,

Life is determined 

To drag us both to the filthy ground.

But he knows

How much I love the sky

And he refuses to be pushed down,

So he raises our chin up

And starts working from scratch

To build a city of our preference 

To build a city full of mirrors,

Where we can finally 

See each other

Be together

And light that black flame

And color it red, orange and gold.