He became the champagne that lay stagnant in his unforced grip. Sitting like a wish waiting for a shooting star. Life becomes yesterday, thoughts become formulas, dreams become the only place you think you're alive.
Not only does the universe circulate around me, I know things no one in the world knows. I'm a genius. Amazing. Such is this that analysis becomes a major part of my daily life. Why does that man wear jeans way too tight for him and a shirt ironed to minimalist perfection primed for daily use in the contemporary world of amazing fashion. I'm not telling. A true analyser never reveals his amazing and insightfully proficient thoughts. It's true. Don't get me wrong. I love telling people what I think, I'm all for it in fact. I'm a firm believer in what you don't believe. I'm not a rebel. Really I'm not. The scariest thing you can do right now is find out you're just like everyone else. In resisting yourself you leave your soul wasted. Now you will never know why you are left wanting something you will never understand.
by Adrian Ng
Friday, January 23, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
thin dying tree
The path ahead seems a little bit tough. Rocky roads and a slight incline had caused her to panic a little and the desire to turn back to the comfort of a warm bed and a hot shower began to show itself, even though ever so slightly. Apprehensive because the road seems long. The doubt of whether or not she was able begun to creep up and the flesh that is so quick to feel pain stopped.
She looks around and although she feels a tug at her thighs and was convinced she was walking on an incline there are no hills in sight. They were right, the paths are straight and flat. Her flesh tells her differently. Very differently.
There is a slight awareness of the nothingness around her. She has been so used to the fullness of everything around her that the sporadic spaced felt like a vast emptiness and it causes her to feel a slight uneasiness. The uneasiness creeps up and her mind gives in to the possibility that she may have been at that same dark place. Her perceptions warps and began to agree with this slight quiver within her mind. Her emotions well up as they begin to react by bubbling fear and doubt in the big melting pot.
She closes her eyes and turns her face upward so she could see some light. She tried to recall the comforting words He had said to her. The melting pot sizzles and she takes a deep breath. She rationalises that there is no point panicking. After all she's already here and He had said it'll be alright. She inches forward slowly shaking off the fear and doubts within her. Opening her eyes she sees that the darkness has lifted and it was morning.
The paths are straight before her and she could see for miles. Miles of dry parched land rolls before her. Evenly spaced throughout the broken land are wells surrounded by a small patch of healthy trees. The healthy trees were thin in numbers and the land is vastly dotted by a majority of dying trees. It is as if the sparsely grown trees are without the ability to root in and to drink from the well. Thin dying trees.
She walks forward and stops to touch a tree. The tree before her is quite a pretty sight. It is a frail tree it is pretty. Its leaves were glossy, its trunk polished and its fruits were big and shiny. She runs her hands down the trunk. She reached to grab a fruit and she pulls down a branch. The frail branch breaks at her touch. She pulls off the fruit on its end and takes a bite. The flesh of the fruit was dry and powdery, dry and it crumbles in her hands. Throwing the fruit down she leaned upon the tree. She hears a crack and immediately stands straight again. Looking down she sees the crack on the trunk of the tree. It is hollow and struggling to stand. She bends down to nurse the cracks and notices its roots just above the soil. Tangled roots that were unable to grow down deep, to obtain drink to nourish itself. In its search for water it had tangled up itself. The tree was dying. Thin dying tree.
Quite a sense wells up within her. A sense of sadness. Love for the tree wells up within her. Something foreign. Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she runs her fingers down the tangled roots. The tree is dying. The warm touch of a hand on her right shoulder brought her to the attention that there is someone else there. She turns ans see Him standing. He bends down and carefully untangles each root. She watches intently. He hands her a bucket and points to the closest well so she sets down her backpack and runs to the well. She fills the bucket and carefully carries it back to the tree. At His direction she pours the water down slowly around the roots. He continues to gently untangle the roots as she fills the bucket again. He carefully cuts off the dead roots and with His skillful hands He digs a deep hole in the soil. He whispers to her as she places the bucket down and she carefully held the tree as they place it once again upright in the ground. She held the tree straight as His strong hands directs the roots and plants it straight and downwards towards the source of water He knows is underground. He surely and securely covers the roots with soil and together they water the ground surrounding the tree.
They stay beneath the tree and laugh and eat together. They sing songs as they continuously prune and water the dear tree. They nurse the cracks in the trunks and comfort the tree. The tree one day broke into a smile and she looks up at Him and smiled. He puts His hands around her and gives her a tight hug. Then He places His hand firmly around her shoulders and nudges her forward. She moves forward surely secure in His arms. He stops and looks at her as He smiles.
The tree standing before them was quite a grand tree...
She looks around and although she feels a tug at her thighs and was convinced she was walking on an incline there are no hills in sight. They were right, the paths are straight and flat. Her flesh tells her differently. Very differently.
There is a slight awareness of the nothingness around her. She has been so used to the fullness of everything around her that the sporadic spaced felt like a vast emptiness and it causes her to feel a slight uneasiness. The uneasiness creeps up and her mind gives in to the possibility that she may have been at that same dark place. Her perceptions warps and began to agree with this slight quiver within her mind. Her emotions well up as they begin to react by bubbling fear and doubt in the big melting pot.
She closes her eyes and turns her face upward so she could see some light. She tried to recall the comforting words He had said to her. The melting pot sizzles and she takes a deep breath. She rationalises that there is no point panicking. After all she's already here and He had said it'll be alright. She inches forward slowly shaking off the fear and doubts within her. Opening her eyes she sees that the darkness has lifted and it was morning.
The paths are straight before her and she could see for miles. Miles of dry parched land rolls before her. Evenly spaced throughout the broken land are wells surrounded by a small patch of healthy trees. The healthy trees were thin in numbers and the land is vastly dotted by a majority of dying trees. It is as if the sparsely grown trees are without the ability to root in and to drink from the well. Thin dying trees.
She walks forward and stops to touch a tree. The tree before her is quite a pretty sight. It is a frail tree it is pretty. Its leaves were glossy, its trunk polished and its fruits were big and shiny. She runs her hands down the trunk. She reached to grab a fruit and she pulls down a branch. The frail branch breaks at her touch. She pulls off the fruit on its end and takes a bite. The flesh of the fruit was dry and powdery, dry and it crumbles in her hands. Throwing the fruit down she leaned upon the tree. She hears a crack and immediately stands straight again. Looking down she sees the crack on the trunk of the tree. It is hollow and struggling to stand. She bends down to nurse the cracks and notices its roots just above the soil. Tangled roots that were unable to grow down deep, to obtain drink to nourish itself. In its search for water it had tangled up itself. The tree was dying. Thin dying tree.
Quite a sense wells up within her. A sense of sadness. Love for the tree wells up within her. Something foreign. Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she runs her fingers down the tangled roots. The tree is dying. The warm touch of a hand on her right shoulder brought her to the attention that there is someone else there. She turns ans see Him standing. He bends down and carefully untangles each root. She watches intently. He hands her a bucket and points to the closest well so she sets down her backpack and runs to the well. She fills the bucket and carefully carries it back to the tree. At His direction she pours the water down slowly around the roots. He continues to gently untangle the roots as she fills the bucket again. He carefully cuts off the dead roots and with His skillful hands He digs a deep hole in the soil. He whispers to her as she places the bucket down and she carefully held the tree as they place it once again upright in the ground. She held the tree straight as His strong hands directs the roots and plants it straight and downwards towards the source of water He knows is underground. He surely and securely covers the roots with soil and together they water the ground surrounding the tree.
They stay beneath the tree and laugh and eat together. They sing songs as they continuously prune and water the dear tree. They nurse the cracks in the trunks and comfort the tree. The tree one day broke into a smile and she looks up at Him and smiled. He puts His hands around her and gives her a tight hug. Then He places His hand firmly around her shoulders and nudges her forward. She moves forward surely secure in His arms. He stops and looks at her as He smiles.
The tree standing before them was quite a grand tree...
Friday, January 9, 2009
Fly fly blackbird
The melancholic music plays as her thoughts lingered around the faces of those who have been so much a part of her life. The open door of the birdcage begins to occupy a larger part of her vision and she hopped towards it. The last time she was outside the cage she had forced her way open and the wind blew, the sun scorched and the many other birds pecked relentlessly at her. The blackbird returned to the comfortable cage battered and bruised. Wings broken, eyes sunken. She sat at the edge as she gathered all she needed to begin her flight. The faces around her lifted the doors of the cage that had caged her inside, alone.
There was a slight tinge of pain as she looked at the familiar faces with such a rush of affection. She walked by and saw the bearded old man on the bench with a broken guitar as he sang. His voice floated in and hit her eardrums and she stopped to take a seat. He smiled. Why are you always singing the same song Mr Pink? He raised his sunken eyes, and smiled. He continued to strum his guitar and sing.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take your broken wings and learn to fly
All your life you were only waiting for this moment to arrive
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take your sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life you wer eonly waiting for this moment to be free
Her heart broke into a smile and she sang along to the deep broken voice.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take your broken wings and learn to fly
All your life you were only waiting for this moment to arrive
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take your sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life you wer eonly waiting for this moment to be free
It is time, nearly , the ringing phones and the recent warm hugs from the dearest friends saying goodbye surrounded the atmosphere. The family that had always been there. The familiar sights, the smiling faces embraces the arms in her heart and the tug at the area between her heart, abdomen and lungs began to ache a little. It is time, nearly. All her bags are packed and she's ready, ready to go. She breathed in, a deep breath and know it'll be good.
She threw the rubbish in the green bin and looked back. Foundations built and promises of friendships, relationships that are nothing temporary. Her heart rejoices. She smiles at her everlasting companion and in His embrace picked up her backpack. Together, they walked.
Next time, her wings will not be broken and her eyes unsunken. Together they all walked, those faces around her, together they walked. Towards Him.
They will be okay. They will be good. Hand in hand they walked, with Him.
She smiles, the engine of the car starts and onward they go towards Him.
The love in her heart rose up and embraced each of them in a deep lasting embrace. Forever.
All your life you were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird fly
Into the line of the dark black night.
There was a slight tinge of pain as she looked at the familiar faces with such a rush of affection. She walked by and saw the bearded old man on the bench with a broken guitar as he sang. His voice floated in and hit her eardrums and she stopped to take a seat. He smiled. Why are you always singing the same song Mr Pink? He raised his sunken eyes, and smiled. He continued to strum his guitar and sing.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take your broken wings and learn to fly
All your life you were only waiting for this moment to arrive
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take your sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life you wer eonly waiting for this moment to be free
Her heart broke into a smile and she sang along to the deep broken voice.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take your broken wings and learn to fly
All your life you were only waiting for this moment to arrive
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take your sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life you wer eonly waiting for this moment to be free
It is time, nearly , the ringing phones and the recent warm hugs from the dearest friends saying goodbye surrounded the atmosphere. The family that had always been there. The familiar sights, the smiling faces embraces the arms in her heart and the tug at the area between her heart, abdomen and lungs began to ache a little. It is time, nearly. All her bags are packed and she's ready, ready to go. She breathed in, a deep breath and know it'll be good.
She threw the rubbish in the green bin and looked back. Foundations built and promises of friendships, relationships that are nothing temporary. Her heart rejoices. She smiles at her everlasting companion and in His embrace picked up her backpack. Together, they walked.
Next time, her wings will not be broken and her eyes unsunken. Together they all walked, those faces around her, together they walked. Towards Him.
They will be okay. They will be good. Hand in hand they walked, with Him.
She smiles, the engine of the car starts and onward they go towards Him.
The love in her heart rose up and embraced each of them in a deep lasting embrace. Forever.
All your life you were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird fly
Into the line of the dark black night.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
leap from the chasm
You are caught in the chasm between pleasure and boundless pain. Restless, unsatisfied... guiltily pleased and relentlessly saddened by the bad things that happen in the world. Separated couples, starving children, the plump lady there who runs only to miss her bus. You take petty joy in these bad things as only a hurting, vengeful soul does. Yet you sympathise and feel the slicing pain and angry for them! - as a comrade, someone who has gone through pain too.
Do you believe in love, adoration, loyalty, justice? Who knows what values you even hold these days. How could you look at pain and smile? Even if a little bitterly. It is horrendous that you should take even the slightest joy in such cruelty. You are fickle and nonchalant, hurting, hurtful, a pen loaded with poison.
You are not living for God, and you are not living for yourself. But you aren't sure that you are worshipping the devil just because you can't make yourself read the bible, just because you feel funny things about serious matters. Perhaps you are. Who knows.
If you had only brought your questions to one who could answer then.
But you didn't.
You tried everything and everyone but.
And you found...
nothing.
All this restlessness and strangeness yields to furious combustion. But you are afraid to say this to anyone. All the others around you are clueless surrounding shadows, anyway. Do they know better? Ha.
They're stuck in the same hole as you are.
Deny, deny, whatever you do - lie through your teeth, whistle in the storm, die with a laugh plastered all over your mouth.
There, over there... over...... what? Where are you again?
Is the sun rising or setting?
And is that a moon?
Or an owl...
Lost.
You are lost in a whirl of messy thoughts that don't make sense, your poor posture (slouched on a high stool by a low table), the cheap-sounding jingles blasting on the too-bright television. Distracted like hell.
You smiled your way through the day.
And at the end of the day, you were disgusted because all you really did was to lie. You always joined the crowds in calling the wolf bad, but you were really the wolf all along. Crud.
The day ended and you felt like you ended too.
Perhaps because today you reached hell. And realised Hell wasn't being covered waist high in pig shit, or being deep-fried like a human wonton. It was blinding darkness - darkness thicker than your winter jacket, suspension, being neither near the top or touching bottom. No perspective. No aims. No sense. No love. No hope. No dreams. No hate, no sadness, no feelings, nothing tangible. No life, no death, no heart, no soul, no spirit......
If you only realised at that moment, that heaven was just one step away...
One choice...
One whisper...
One shout...
One yielding heart...
Then you would have left your blinding path for illuminated freedom.
Then you would have found that living was afterall what you had wanted all along.
Do you believe in love, adoration, loyalty, justice? Who knows what values you even hold these days. How could you look at pain and smile? Even if a little bitterly. It is horrendous that you should take even the slightest joy in such cruelty. You are fickle and nonchalant, hurting, hurtful, a pen loaded with poison.
You are not living for God, and you are not living for yourself. But you aren't sure that you are worshipping the devil just because you can't make yourself read the bible, just because you feel funny things about serious matters. Perhaps you are. Who knows.
If you had only brought your questions to one who could answer then.
But you didn't.
You tried everything and everyone but.
And you found...
nothing.
All this restlessness and strangeness yields to furious combustion. But you are afraid to say this to anyone. All the others around you are clueless surrounding shadows, anyway. Do they know better? Ha.
They're stuck in the same hole as you are.
Deny, deny, whatever you do - lie through your teeth, whistle in the storm, die with a laugh plastered all over your mouth.
There, over there... over...... what? Where are you again?
Is the sun rising or setting?
And is that a moon?
Or an owl...
Lost.
You are lost in a whirl of messy thoughts that don't make sense, your poor posture (slouched on a high stool by a low table), the cheap-sounding jingles blasting on the too-bright television. Distracted like hell.
You smiled your way through the day.
And at the end of the day, you were disgusted because all you really did was to lie. You always joined the crowds in calling the wolf bad, but you were really the wolf all along. Crud.
The day ended and you felt like you ended too.
Perhaps because today you reached hell. And realised Hell wasn't being covered waist high in pig shit, or being deep-fried like a human wonton. It was blinding darkness - darkness thicker than your winter jacket, suspension, being neither near the top or touching bottom. No perspective. No aims. No sense. No love. No hope. No dreams. No hate, no sadness, no feelings, nothing tangible. No life, no death, no heart, no soul, no spirit......
If you only realised at that moment, that heaven was just one step away...
One choice...
One whisper...
One shout...
One yielding heart...
Then you would have left your blinding path for illuminated freedom.
Then you would have found that living was afterall what you had wanted all along.
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