The raindrops were like a waterfall of tears. They washed away the sins of our fathers, they cleansed and purified all that is rotten and dead.
The funeral pyre was set alight by tens of candles from the mourners. All that were gathered ignited the wood. Fire, at first shyly, then more and more boldly, begun to engulf the wooden mound.
The flickering flames ate away the remains leaving only ashes.
How fragile and tender are our bodies, so little is needed to break them to pieces, to crush them into dust.
All the tears cannot change that. No prayers can bring back the dead.
Our time here has been carved into stone, aeons ago…
Red always reminded him of the liquid, scalding hot wax that his father used to seal letters.
Oh, yes and of blood, red reminded him about the rusty colour of blood, a life force that once drained could not be replaced and lead to destruction.
Red was also Mars – the planet blessed with a name befitting a god of war.
Mars was the star which guided him through many pitfalls and dark roads. It gave him strength, shining brilliantly like a ruby on a slender finger of a lover.
“Time Traveler’s Wife”.
It’s a tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme…
Two people fall in love, what separates them is the elusive time that continuously drives the lovers to be both together and apart. Like two pieces of a puzzle that fall in and out of its place.
Theirs is love that conquers the greatest and most unforgiving adversary of all – Time.
A cruel lord that governs over our meaningless shells, it let’s us breath and live on this Earth only for so much…
Only for a while.
A fleeting moment in a cosmic magnitude of creation.
Memories are fleeting and whimsical creatures that can bounce aimlessly inside our skulls and clench our hearts in a painful twangs of reminisce.
As we recall the secrets that have been, willingly or not, bestowed upon us we discover a world of choices.
Should I know about this? Is it alright to hear this? Do I really need this knowledge?
I have a short temper, I am hot headed, I lack patience. My behaviour often is radical and irrational. More often than not I find myself regretting words that tumbled out of my mouth before I could think them through.
Life is too short to spend it on regret. Let’s fix the mistakes we made, let’s focus our efforts on mending things rather than empty regrets.
A private island.
A paradise, safe haven, shelter, asylum, home.
A place where I can be myself, no pretending, no masks.
Spiders, slimy, ugly, biting insects and other critters.
What happens when we are gone from this world. What happens to our consciousness. What happens with I, Ego, Me.