The way in which we wait

Please hold.
So begins the incessant tone of the machine
No one on the other side picks up
So I wait, for indication and validation.
I don’t do anything but wait anymore
Except of course, trying to receive an answer.
I’m afraid of leaving, in the slightest chance
That someone might answer and I’m absent.
What if, someone picks up and they realise.
So I hold, as I am told, because I am told
That soon, someone will reply.
I trust that someone will reply.
Like an animal waiting for food,
A day in the waiting room,
The recurring ticking of the second-hand,
And the cyclical changing of the days,
I am told,
Please Hold.

19-08-2008

The greatest satisfaction I get at the end of everyday is crossing off the days on my calender.

Big Dreams

"Does it count if it's only a dream"
- Arundathi Roy, God of Small Things

Cambridge, Prague, Europe, Africa, The Hague, Human Rights, International Law. I have big dreams.
Does it count if they're only dreams. Do our dreams define us or do the proactive actions that follow the intent characterise our identities?
One can be charged for the intent of murder so surely the will must count for something.
But why does it matter if at the end of the day we are all branded failures if we don't get our big dreams.
And is it worth working for these big dreams that probably won't happen. It's so easy to say something so cliche about not being able to get them if you don't try. But what if trying is so hard that you don't think it's worth it anymore. What makes something worth your while. How do I know it's going to be worth my while, and what if it turns out that it isn't. Then will it be worth it because I tried or will it have been wasted for nothing.

I have Big Dreams but I don't think they count.

i think i just forgot myself for two seconds

Great Expectations

It is the expectation exerted onto us that forces us to shape our dreams. It is the private expectation of greatness that leads to the diminishing hope and courage that we hold within. It is from the expectation that our individual expectations are anchored towards. Or are expectations that are built crafted to correlate to the individuals own expectation. And when we succeed, do we pat our backs and congratulate ourselves for achieving our expectations or do we thank those who have chained us to what they have masterminded. And when we fail to reach these expectations, should our minds shrivel up in self-disgust or do we place the blame onto the ones that have created the false idyllic dream.

The need to place the responsibility of blame onto an individual not ourselves is an immensely strong characteristic of humans. The blame game is intensified when we are faulted for our beliefs. Do we start believing even more strongly after we have been condemned because we refuse to accept the conclusion of our argument that has been classified as irrelevant. Is it because of pride that our not-so-hardened revelations have been strengthened by the doubts that are thrown at us. The expectation that what we have deemed to be exquisite and radiant with brilliance will also be deemed to be exquisite and radiant with brilliance by those that have the power to crucify is dangerous.

Expectations should not be the foundation of our goals. Expectations should not be the expected outcome. Great Expectations, however, are one of the most powerful forces that drives the passion and intensity in our lives.

the merging of the ages

a second in time, stolen
captured, immortalized. framed
the creation of a time warp
the catalyst to our pasts
the symbols of moments lost to age.

the eerie gaze from her eyes,
of her soul that has been moved
the untainted smiles and the
plastic pistol you played with
uncontrollable laughter, transferred to me.

an explicit connection between us,
an incomprehensible link between decades
crafted and created
to the finest, intricate detail, by
a photograph.

19-07-08

love and beauty

where you gasped last for breath
the home that we know.
in the most abstract sense,
where i last loved the most.
and there within the mists
of your embrace, i lived.

a dream from my untouched past
of all the pain that i own,
hidden in a shoe box, not locked,
the dream that i know not a dream
forces infinite needles into my soul.
no longer does the smell of your
dried blood linger in my mind.

so you have left the garden,
drifting further to oblivion.
softly Venus whispered slowly,
in the mindless state of ecstasy.
the rest do not feel her beauty
certitude and conviction that i saw
Goddess, return. drive me again
to the sweet rapture you breathe.