a daylight dream

It’s extraordinary how we have found each other, like ripples extended out on a pristine ocean. It’s as if our energies have surfaced the world clearly and confidently; with a magnitude so vibrant, it attracted all it could along its field. We stumbled upon each other a very long time ago, dearest, since our eyes met— and since then, we knew there was some sort of connection we couldn’t comprehend, yet was true and vital to our humanity. We were simply meant to be with each other. You are the laughter that brightens up the day for everyone. Through all perils and risks, you stand so confidently, with a smile and a reassurance so loud and courageous, capable of getting through, succeeding and having a beautiful time. The possibilities before you are a source of comfort rather than not, and you are wonderfully able to determine what you want. The freedom empowers you, it gives you the choice and the blessing of using your mind boundlessly. Your mind is an enchanting thing, dear

I barely slept last night; my eyes wide and spirit floating in the atmosphere with glorious joy. I might have closed my eyes but I could not keep my mind still, it was constantly rewinding the beautiful moments of the day that preceded us, creating a million narratives written in terms of pure love. And I am so proud of you, dearest. A few hours ago, you have finally reached your dreams after what seemed like an eternity. After years of trying hard and willingly working towards it, you have attained your ideal, touched the horizon of your visualisations you conjured up as a young kid. Now you’re here and I cannot be more proud, my dearest one. It wasn’t easy, was it? How many times did you come home frowning, encompassed by the disappointments of failure? How many times did you feel as if you were never going to figure it out? I understood, and I grieved along, too. I knew that there would come a day, but I couldn’t promise when. I couldn’t determine when you would finally

Here we are, by the sea, near our element that describes almost everything about our very own hearts. Our presence here is transcendent, as the echoes of the water flowing and ebbing by the shore resonate and calm us down, bring us to a certain truth that has always been there. And the stillness surrounding us suffices; it paints a smile across our cheeks, eyes closed and minds at ease. Perhaps you don’t understand why I persist to watch the sun rising from the horizon every single day. Or maybe you do, you know that it’s something inherently sacred, a ritual that inspires and motivates me to bring liveliness into the mundane. A few moments ago, it was peacefully dark, it was quiet and persistent. Now, it’s a collision of colours and a celebration of vigour and hope— it’s a reminder I need every single day, not to take times of overwhelm and darkness for granted, to tolerate the weary ways down the hills of dreams and aspirations. And you’re sitting next to me, your heart

Sometimes in life, you are alone. Both physically and emotionally. There are times when you suddenly find yourself detached in all dimensions, and all of the people and thoughts you used to cling to somehow move further away, until you’re left with this vast emptiness— an expansive, dark and frightful emptiness, encrypted with mysteries you cannot yet decipher, and all you are left with is this space, and you don’t know what to do with it. It’s a long night for I spend it analysing this space. I see my dearest memories so far away and no longer real, their impact pulsating in my veins in shocking frustrations. Maintaining this beautiful impact is arduous, it requires a stream of forgiveness and peace, one that cannot always be attained midst the overwhelm and confusion. I spend some time feeling my eyes tear slowly, experiencing the fires in my chest. The fires that desire so much, that long for a past projected irrationally into a future one cannot control nor paint. With

It’s a blessing to be near the sea when all I desire to do is escape; escape from the echoes sounding in my mind, colourising accordingly to the hues of my twisted thoughts. All I want is to hear a different noise, one that is flowing and ebbing— the sound of the waves crashing the shore, taking the sand away with it, leaving behind the shells and the debris. I haven’t slept, not a wink. I’m just afraid to wake up and feel that way again so I just keep consuming those thoughts until they fade away and at least at night, there is no reality to blend in— only the void of darkness it could seep away into. I even wish they were definitive thoughts, but they’re treacherously spun into a haze and I’m not sure I can set them apart. At some hour, I leave the bed exhaustingly, trotting anxiously away. Leaving home, I see the sky so brilliantly embracing day break, and it allows a soft smile to stretch generously, giving my face a different feel. However, not even this can light a s

I spent a sleepless night, which rarely happens to me, in a rosy July. The warm room air is as pink as a night rose, its petals enclosed primly, not allowing any exposure or light to peek through. I spend the last moments of the night seeing what lies in the colours of the dark and the approaching sun rays, and I am inspired and alive. I’ve never decided to surrender sleep before, but it’s a new beginning. A new discovery, unravelling what the darkness has to offer. It’s a time to see the pictures swarming in my mind, to make sense of the surroundings, to build a home of grounding realisations, to keep going no matter how unclear and messy it is. And dearest, perhaps the best part, is watching you sleep. Your eyes closed, your brows relaxed, arching beautifully across the horizon of your forehead. I look at it, how it wrinkles and softens as you speak, even when you stay silent. With your eyes closed, you’re like a cosmos, bursts of thoughts orbiting the inside of your min

Sometimes I wake up too early, and it would hurt to wake you up with me. I’m quite tempted though, to let my smile force me towards the open windows, to see how the world would greet me that day. A gushing stream of rapture also tempts me to wake you up gently, through some melodies of loving dreams and lyrics of passionate goals. My mind visualises how beautiful it would be to caress your cheek as you lay next to me, allowing your beautiful eyes to open gracefully, letting the light in. But, I let you sleep. I know you spend the night listening to the noise of your thoughts; they are somehow like nightly waves constantly embracing the boulders near the shore, splashing and retreating, always coming back once more. I know you need those little moments to rest, to watch the dark canvass in your mind entwine with snippets of dreams left far behind in your subconscious— snippets that you don’t consider that much. So I lay next to you with a smile, watching that wandering beam

And we’ve made it. We’ve reached the top. Now, we linger on the mountain, our breaths steadying, eyes glimmering and smiles growing. We sit on the edges of the hardened earth, our feet touching the air, gravity pulling them downwards, but we balance ourselves. There are echoes of mountains all around us, toppling over each other, in different frequencies of light and sound. The sky up here is not the common blue but a mixture of hues originating from the sun rising near us. Her beams have pierced the atmosphere and the alpenglow is dancing before us. We are no longer the humans on earth up here, with all this wonder and awe— all of those different scenes we are observing all at once. Silence awakens our laughter and youth. This climb up was relentless and arduous. It was impure and obscured. We aged with every step towards the inclination of heightened toughness and required strength. We sighed and asked questions we don’t usually ask—  will we ever get there? The sign

It’s no longer dark when we wake up. The sun is already facing us with its expressive blaze and over-arching light rays. We wake for the calling of the birds, the sound of the sprinklers in the gardens beside and the buzzing of life round every corner. But this morning, I wake up while it’s no longer dark in my mind. For a time not so short, I’ve been waking with a fear gnawing at my spirit. I didn’t tell you, not to obstruct your peace and everglowing smile. I liked hearing about your dreams and aspirations soaring up to heights unimaginable, because they are a part of your soul that I do not wish to reign but  let be. You were the first to wake, perhaps it was the thrill that intrigued your mind from settling into a sleep you needed. I rushed out of bed to prepare you breakfast and squeeze out fresh orange juice into a bottle, allowing the sour-sweet elusive fragrance to tickle my breaths, forming a smile on my face. I wrap it all up into your suitcase with a frown crown

Layers within layers of indigo clouds, the light conceals itself, creating shadows that darken their insides. The air smells like damp earth and grass-dew, and there are residues of raindrops in the atmosphere, humidifying it with a warm transparent moisture. And though the rain attempts to nourish us earthlings with richness accompanied by the gushing water streams and puddles, it seems to always make the world put a mask on. Though the rain is beautiful and kind, it hides it all with the magnitudes or darkness and stiffness. It takes effort to negate the judgement of my perception— to love the rain instead of despising what it shows on the outside. Then I remember you. I remember the mask you tend to pull on the whole day; keeping your distance, dealing with the concrete facts, judging alternatives on what they are and completely forgetting to ask your heart where it lies. Just like those clouds above hiding the blueness beneath it and nipping away the vivid colours

The dawn pierces through the darkness with impeccable faint rays of light. It also, quite recently, pierces through the deadly silence with the gleeful chirping of birds, melodising symphonies through their morning conversations. And I wake with sleepy eyes that haven’t yet got habituated to the radiance beaming in the living room. I look at what surrounds me and realise that I had fallen asleep on the sofa the night before, completely forgetting to head to the bed. At the other end of the sofa there is you, your back facing the windows so that I cannot see the features of your face— probably tired and worn out. You’re like a silhouette, deeply mysterious and I long for the sunlight to drown the room to see you peacefully asleep. I, myself, am kind of tired as well but it doesn’t cease me from smiling and feeling quite rapturous. I remind myself of our visualisations of the future; how we used to talk so much about striving to be different, to cherish the love in our heart

Since it’s March and evidently spring, we awake to a sky adorned with an inscrutable peachy hue hanging round the circumference of the east. Our eyes are not used to being greeted with a light so soft and apparent; habituated to the winter morning darkness, still so hopeful, though. It’s not so cold for me to sprint to the balcony and watch the faint clouds take shape in spite of the dry eastern winds, that dissipate the clouds if they ever form, casting a veil of uncertain whiteness as the morning ages. I watch the hue become more prominent, till the sun peeks through the buildings, it’s shine radiant and smile-inducing. I think about how well we adapted to winter, how well we appreciated the barren tree branches and the greyish tinge in those old dehydrated leaves. How we spent the shiny afternoons finding solace in the sunlight, exposing our faces to feel the warmth and let it filtrate the worries and evaporate what’s trivial and cunningly unnecessary. We did our

It’s Saturday, a once dreaded day of the week. I remember waking up as a child not knowing what to do, or how I was going to spend the day. It was always spent at home, and since that was never favourable, Saturday was the slowest; inspiring all the torpidity and sunken spirits sufficient enough to draw a frown on my face. But everything changes, I believe. When one gets so close to affirming that certain things will stay the same forever, a force shapes itself to sabotage it, and bring about circumstances that blow those false beliefs away. I wake up on a Saturday with a smile stretched so wide that it bickers the sunrise to hurry up and show itself. After minutes spent sipping a calming herbal tea and rereading poetry from the night before, I find myself racing down the stairs, the fresh morning breeze alleviating my steps, allowing me to glide across the streets, walking and observing the many changes occurring as the light dominates the atmosphere instead of the pale m

Sometimes it’s formidable to know the difference between dreams and what’s real, sometimes you wake up wishing that what had happened the day before was only a nightmare; a darkened hole in which time escaped and took us down with it. Yet, we still wake, with our hearts heavy, chests stoned with heaves locked and anxieties bustling the silence of what we cannot hear. Because last night was rough; my head was full of erratic thoughts and fears— being solemnly scared that I would never solve the heap of troubles brought to my table, because it was too much. Too much for the conflict in my mind to balance out reality and what’s unearthly— and I keep promising to remain as hopeful and natural as ever, never allowing for negativity to precipitate and accumulate within, never allowing it to  define  me. But on nights like those, it’s a step way from giving in. Closing the doors of bliss, irrational affirmations come sweeping down the trees swaying in my mind telling me:

I woke up with a jolt on one immensely treasured mid-February morning, but with a rather peculiar feeling, not to feel the morning come to life with action and light. The room was dark, and I could see nothing but the shadows of the curtains on the moon-lit walls. Since it was February, it was profoundly easier to get up from the bed after a deep sleep, since the cold didn’t capture the senses of my skin, caging it betwixt the rattling effects of goosebumps and the chills running down my spine. Spring was coming, and with it comfort and unobscured visions. I was quite thrilled to wake up that morning and was astounded not to rise without the alarm I set the evening before. Heading to check what time it was, I realised it was 3 am, a bit too early. Confused, I opened the balcony and found the atmosphere totally invisible by a creeping fog; dense and saturated with vapour, engulfing the street and star lights. A smile slowly slid on my face, feeling grateful for waking up so