monday blues- on a tuesday

i'm having the monday blues on a tuesday.


despite the three-day weekend, i wasn't able to do much.

ay, i Was able to bum around Much; but that was the end of everything.

were it only that we could turn back time.... how often have you heard that?

but if you consider how short a time we have in this world (not necessarily implying that there's another one- world, or life), it should strike each of us as being weird. why isn't everyone making like their world's ending?

maybe because it's not. or maybe because at a life expectancy of 6o-something, being 30, or 40, or 50- that's still a long way off from 60-something.


but then, we've to work to live. we can't enjoy life however short it is because we have to suck up to our bosses and our clients so that we can earn pay. i don't know where this is all going to, but we're all going to turn into dust in the end, and me_ i have to go to work. (why do weekends have to end?)

how fare the lovers

I am not after race or creed?

But the eyes?
Fascinating.

Who was it who said that the eyes were windows to the soul? Consider this. Two lovers, separated in death by Fate. Their last glimpse of the other, their eyes. And before their last dying breath, a promise…

“…I will search for you….”

No goodbyes. we will be together again, he vows- Before the darkness sets in. then he lets go….

D a r k n e s s
N i g h t

A gasp. He is born again into this world… and with each passing day, memory returns, of something precious lost. And… a promise to be fulfilled.
He remembers.

… and as each day passes, searches- into the windows of the soul.

Can he find his other?

How will fare the lovers?


We shall see.

time

time will never cease to dumbfound. it can go as slow or as fast as it desires. today, when i'm sitting idle for a holiday, i'll look up at the clock and be surprised that it's already almost, or coming to, noon. time wastes away without our even having to try. i shouldn't have had to be surprised.


time can move on and yet stay the same. like when you're haunted by ghosts that never deign to leave you. time moves on; you don't. how do you atone? you accept whatever comes your way, without question. that's karma striking back. you don't fight it. maybe by making of this world your own personal hell, you can seek to mitigate whatever will be in store for you after it.


i am my own tormentor, because i choose it.

whiskey

almost 4am....
can't sleep.
sleep-
have pity on the weary_ claim me.


strange word, whiskey. whisky. to have it for a nightcap, you'd think it would- it must?- whisk you away to some far away land peopled with sleep.

of course, sleep aren't people. it's what you do at night. or what i should do at night. only, i'm not doing it right now.

or my brain is. the mind is willing but the flesh is weak.

or it isn't weak enough. else, i wouldn't be wrestling with it now to allow me to sleep.


whiskey- whisky- whisk me away to faraway sleep
where the tired are at peace and slumber is deep