you and i...
you and i see the world from such different spaces.
the moon. it shines the same way. as it always has. and that's what keeps us going. it is pale. here and there. tinged with yellow guilt, it is the reflection of our desire to one day be a free creature. it is calming. reassuring. a presence that will never change. they did say for us that it would be eternal. and she looks down on us, benevolently. a kind mother that greets her child at the bedside, eager for that final kiss before the dreams begin. cupping our faces, she makes us believe the world is a better place. a happier place.
the stars. oh, how they twinkle. these silent jewels of the day. they are our sisters and brothers. from far off places. and you and i. from our separate perspectives bake our stories. fairy tales and bedtime romances. we weave them into our aspirations. our hopes for tomorrow. they become our champions. our trophies. our rules. our principles. and we can lay back, our hands reaching across continents. awaiting sentences of pleasure. we are unschooled in our believes. but we believe in them just as strongly. they do not chain us down. they liberate us. and spurn our advances cruelly. but these stars, they represent you. they represent me. they represent our lofty imaginations.
there are people in this world who don't believe in magic. they see fantasy as fiction. miracles as bathwater. dreams as mirrors and smoke. they dig deep into the earth and bury their roots. they will flourish from the fertile soils, fertilized by experience and lessons learnt. they are real. they are tangible. they are hopeless. but that is not necessarily a bad thing. because we who do believe in magic, need them. they make our dreams more vivid. increasing the contrast so everything looks like pop-art from a wardhol. bright. jarring. a piece of tapestry hung up sticking out from the bland wall. impossible.
who can say what impossible really is?
then there's us. they would laugh. we, of such comic lives. a never-ending situational comedy. like that kid in the show, what's it called? he's always crying. sad. battered and bruised by the madness about him. he asks himself why. he tries his best to cope. and there's a audience. sitting outside the image box. laughing till their guts are spill upon the ground. aching. but from sheer raucous joy. never realizing that... well, we are the ones who are suffering. eyeing the stop button and praying someone would press it.
noone does. they never do.
i missed you. and now that you have returned. the moon and stars are brighter. still as distant. still as unreachable. still as irascible as always. but perhaps that's enough for me. for now.
till it all comes crashing down again.
DuaGu
"i'll get you a room..."
the moon. it shines the same way. as it always has. and that's what keeps us going. it is pale. here and there. tinged with yellow guilt, it is the reflection of our desire to one day be a free creature. it is calming. reassuring. a presence that will never change. they did say for us that it would be eternal. and she looks down on us, benevolently. a kind mother that greets her child at the bedside, eager for that final kiss before the dreams begin. cupping our faces, she makes us believe the world is a better place. a happier place.
the stars. oh, how they twinkle. these silent jewels of the day. they are our sisters and brothers. from far off places. and you and i. from our separate perspectives bake our stories. fairy tales and bedtime romances. we weave them into our aspirations. our hopes for tomorrow. they become our champions. our trophies. our rules. our principles. and we can lay back, our hands reaching across continents. awaiting sentences of pleasure. we are unschooled in our believes. but we believe in them just as strongly. they do not chain us down. they liberate us. and spurn our advances cruelly. but these stars, they represent you. they represent me. they represent our lofty imaginations.
there are people in this world who don't believe in magic. they see fantasy as fiction. miracles as bathwater. dreams as mirrors and smoke. they dig deep into the earth and bury their roots. they will flourish from the fertile soils, fertilized by experience and lessons learnt. they are real. they are tangible. they are hopeless. but that is not necessarily a bad thing. because we who do believe in magic, need them. they make our dreams more vivid. increasing the contrast so everything looks like pop-art from a wardhol. bright. jarring. a piece of tapestry hung up sticking out from the bland wall. impossible.
who can say what impossible really is?
then there's us. they would laugh. we, of such comic lives. a never-ending situational comedy. like that kid in the show, what's it called? he's always crying. sad. battered and bruised by the madness about him. he asks himself why. he tries his best to cope. and there's a audience. sitting outside the image box. laughing till their guts are spill upon the ground. aching. but from sheer raucous joy. never realizing that... well, we are the ones who are suffering. eyeing the stop button and praying someone would press it.
noone does. they never do.
i missed you. and now that you have returned. the moon and stars are brighter. still as distant. still as unreachable. still as irascible as always. but perhaps that's enough for me. for now.
till it all comes crashing down again.
DuaGu
"i'll get you a room..."