a daylight dream

As the darkness pulls over me like a quiet revealing sheet of a different shade of light, I lay in my bed, watching the car lights dancing on the wall, seeing everything in a dim kind of black, and suddenly, the things that meant so much just a couple of hours ago fade into nothingness. At night, there’s a freedom outstretched to the boundaries of the self and its imagination. There’s always this self-talk a little bit empowering, but quickly enough wavers to bring about some worry of what life could bring, it also reviews the different events of the day, rummaging for mistakes and sources of guilt, calling for more and more reformation, because good is never enough. Sometimes at night, I fear God. Although He is always in my heart as a source of comfort but, at times, I feel so small in this world and so unready to die for some reason. I’ve had so many chances to help others, did I fulfil them all? Did anyone ever feel dissatisfied by the value I had presented? Did I ever...

All year she waits, For rain, Starved grasses, Yellow-green stains on skin, Patting palms against, Them. Six months away, From winter, A summer mild, But hindered, Spirits to soar, As the greens turned to life. She takes the plane and flees, There are no birds, Over here. Only clouds topple over each other, Tinted in blues, Overwhelmed by purples, Too condensed and pure, Even colours aren’t sure, Who they shall be, As evenings take them away. She pats her palms, On windows not to open, Frost on the outside, Diffusing to her bone, But summer dreams, Across, they nip her away. You taught me songs, To hear and listen, Their melodies subtle, Emotions riddles, Like prayers in the dawn, Faint lines after storms. She shall see her one true lover, A decade younger, A spirit-wonder, She shall clutch her hand, Twirl around the floor. They’re singing all the songs, That you have taught. The lover’s eyelids ...