a daylight dream

I could hear the dawn prayer calling resonating against the vacant town, all voices hidden underneath sheaths of dreams and soundless sleeps. However, I wake rather diligently, tapping into consciousness, my first sensation the coldness within my skin, numbing my feet completely. And it being mid December, I find it quite dark to call it a morning and I’m skeptical whether to leave those comfortable layers of sheets above me to carry on with that they called a day. I turn around in my place, and your face is facing the other side and I cannot see your closed eyes and morning hair, all tousled and messy, so I carefully touch your feet with mine, and they’re soft and cold like Antarctic ice. I smile, remembering us joking that we terribly failed in reaching the standards of having both of us to keep ourselves warm, and we had believed our closeness would cure the chill out of our bodies but it seemingly didn’t help. I eventually get up, drawing the blinds to find daybreak gr

I always ask myself: can I do more? The answer is not always “yes”, for some days, I feel like I’m doing well enough; my studies, teaching, writing poetry and stories, enhancing my photography and keeping up with this blog. On those days, I usually feel the acceleration of change, the force of freshness bustling into my life that keeps me motivated and eager to push past those opportunities. But other days like today, the answer is: “yes, I can do much more.” When I hear stories around me of people doing their best to achieve and break free from the surrounding restraints, I’m thrilled to do the same. But so often, I don’t know how. I don’t know how to take my opportunities past their level to open up new doors of possible dreams. Sometimes I think, I really want to be a known writer, or a blogger, or even be able to write regular articles to a magazine or a popular online platform. What about finding myself another job? Or perhaps going more in my current one? What about

Of a broken heart, I slept yesternight. Lone and lust, up a hill. Lost my balance, Into smithereens, I turned and rose, Layers above. From down below,   The winds were a breeze. They blew silently, Paleness in my cheeks, Rustling leaves, Paths, I trailed. Yet skyward, The winds are a torrent, Numbing me, Completely. They take me, I thought I was lost, But what am I, Now? I learn to cope, To stay present. Feel the clouds, Glazed by sunsets, Toppling somewhere, Transforming a mindset. I learn to rule, To lead, A kingdom in a realm, Tame me in my wildest scheme, That no one ever sees. Need not I you, For you give me nothing, Respect shall suffice, Your love, unnoticed, Reality sounds clearer, Resonating deeper, Purposes of achievers, Like ones before me, Shall be my symphony, Your wails I need not, Comprehend. Of a broken heart, I thrive tonight. In my bed I sleep, Winds airing my

From today, Earth will rotate more vividly and evidently. With every passing week, I shall consider putting on more layers on my skin to keep me warm and comfortable. Mornings will become darker, but I shall be there whilst the sun rises, colourises the sky, adding chromatic expectations for what is to come during the shorter days and longer nights. It is November, and a fear is tingling the edge of my spine, questioning my abilities to cope with the cold and the captivating darkness. Also, there is a shallow sceptic disbelief in how I’ll manage to reclaim my health and leave that vicious cycle of relapses for good. But oh, leaving that all behind, November looks brutally hopeful again; the clouds are approaching carrying more than just vapour, but providing the world with a cooler shade of colours, which makes the skies and infinite numbers of azimuths less blue and more foggy and uncertain. But oh, let that be. Let November be. Just as we should all let ourselves be,

Never did I ever attempt to think of breaking the rules or even believe they didn’t have to apply to me. I was always the conformist by nature, though inwardly resisting its significance. But you, keeping up with me, sparking my hidden humour with every day that passes by, makes me want to challenge the world. The passion has grown slowly yet evidently and I have to keep reminding myself to act mature and self-sufficient. But isn’t it so hard to keep up with those ridiculous reminders when I’m spending the sacred hours of the unearthly moments with you, in my dreams? Oh the things I could do to see you, and you, as well. You’re more than just your words and promises, which you take no time to translate. But I’m used to taking my time with my dreams and make-beliefs, formulating those many promises and making them to myself before anyone. And, it has taken me so much time and effort, dear, this you ought to know. But now, I want to promise you so many things, but I no longe