come, stay and let's talk. it's a good day to be alive
Did you realize
That you have been loved
When you thought you were utterly alone.
Memories of the past are rekindled,
Both the hurtful and joyful moments,
Brightening the dark path that lies ahead.
Yes, I have done wrong a few times,
Yes, I am still working on fixing them.
But I just want you to know
You were in my thoughts
Just as I was with you in the past.
9.18.2021
Yes, those words flow sweetly,
Yes, there are smiles and laughters
Yes, these are happy nice timings
But something about those smiling lips
Something behind those gleeful eyes,
Something behind the splitting moments of pauses,
I glimpse at the real you — sitting in the dark corner, silently fishing for something
Silence — could be the antidote at times.
9.17.2021
Awaken to the thundering roar of the sun so bright and glorious
Up on my feet, I hit the ground and keep running,
Looking only ahead, narrowing the tunnel vision,
Jump over the hoops, dodge distractions,
Wired into the muscle memory is to beat the game
Still, the thought of you lingers in my momentary thoughts,
Hoping to take a glimpse at you one day
Smiling once more under the bright glow of the sunset.
I’ll see you there
One day.
9.16.2021
Persimmon rouge-orange lingered on the horizon to be fair,
Faint whisper of a sleepy jazz saxophone swam in the air,
Slowly, but surely, azure-blue dusk slid into the atmosphere,
Little bitsy tipsy in the evening lit the magic in there,
Curious, but yet daring, flicked tinders in the bagel eyes so clear.
9.15.2021
Sunny sunlight glistened through the surface in refracted pieces as if through an azure stain glass
Ceaseless noises are muted, occasional crackles of the bubbles crisply whistles in the ears.
Embraced by the cosmic shifts, suspended in zero-gravity, the world is an abyss
Sometimes feet dig into shallow dune of snow-soft sands, dissipating into nothingness,
Sometimes sharp shells of clamps scratches the soft part of the feet
When you stay still, the ocean tells you a story. A soothing story told for thousands of years.
Try remembering that.
9.14.2021
Grabbed his hair by his fist
He bashed his punch into his face
Again, again, and again.
Kicked him in the stomach,
Stomped him in the leg,
Rolled him over in the mud.
He still smiles,
Walks over to the cliff and rolls over a rock again.
He was tackled again by the waist
Pummeled by solid fists,
Again, again, and again.
Sweat, blood, and mucus mixed and mingled all over,
Shivering in cold, scrambling in hotness of pain,
Numbed in some parts, bleeding in some other,
He still crawls over to the cliff,
And rolls over the rock.
The rock rolls down the cliff,
Knocking on the window of a far, far away world,
So close to the eye, yet so far away
The world of his dream keeps the candle still lit in his chest.
One day.
One day more.
9.13.2021
How do I rise again?
These kids are riding dragons,
Swimming with blue whales,
Running with giraffes.
My feet seemed to be stuck in mud
Pulling me down evermore
Slowing me down back to the past
Where the glories and memories lie.
How do I rise again?
9.12.2021
Sun is beaming outside,
Sweats dripping down the armpit,
Back and neck are aching as if in outrage,
Couldn’t be happier with a cold drink in this heat,
Shouting like a sailer, running a round like a happy dog,
Wouldn’t it be a wonderful day to be around.
Wouldn’t it be a wonderful day to be alive.
9.11.2021
In the darkness so deep:
What felt like an eternity — wait perhaps it was a blink of an eye — at the end was the light — a Big Bang — of a world unfathomable, yet so familiar.
Should thousands of hours of preparation be traded for a millisecond of change so precious, I would jump into the lightening.
Stare squarely into the darkness. And pray that this will work.
9.10.2021
The oddly courageous eyes stared into mine unflinchingly. Knowingly, confidently, but also secretly, we play this Russian roulette with numbers, shooting at each other with guesses. I got her numbers first, then she, mine.
Walking along the river, she said — “I like fish”. I talked about the world collapsing, imploding into its own. She said — “I like fish”. I talked about the nutrition and what best way to survive. She said — “I like fish”.
As we walked under the bridge, she said — “water”. It is funny how it sounds —“water” — like it is waving at you. I noticed her white shoes’ tip point soaked in mud. Her right calf covered in dark black blots. Even onto tip of her white dress. I feel sweat dripping over my forehead but I cannot say anything for too long. I march on, marching on this path that has gotten cruelly too long.
Awkward bug turns into a handshake — and you know the drill — turn around and walk away with as neutral fade as possible and restrain that urge to mutter “shit!” to yourself. Yes, she has a work — laundry — exam to do and she won’t call back. Yes, it was a headshot and clean one at that.
It will heal, and yes, she likes fish. So let these eyes rest and best serve for another day.
9.9.2021
Ralph with Coffee 
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