transpire to inspire, before it expires
...
hobbes
"write
with a pencil
tied to your heart"
that's beautiful, and here's a trivia, i prefer writing in pencil - homework, school work, doodles, i prefer pencils. probably because they're not permanent, something about lead shaving off itself and finding a place on a clean sheet makes me calm.
inspiration.
i think that's what we all need a little more, a steady beat, a melody, the crashing waves, anything that cues this divine influence directly into our hearts. i realize in the end, a good piece of music, an excellent article or the best of a film matters not if the brain's empty, it's the heart that saves us, saves our muse. like hobbes said, write with a pencil, tied to your heart.
music.
old playlist.
that is my inspiration. have you ever heard an old song in your playlist, one you kept on repeat over and over again, until it's finally replaced - and after listening to it a few years later, it's suddenly new, and suddenly fresh - and it seems different.
or a book, you've read ages ago - left to remain on a dusty shelf, and one day, perhaps out of boredom you decide to peruse it again - and it tells a different story.
because at very different junctions in our journey towards futurehood, we need to make choices, and no one can make them for us. we learn and discern for ourselves, through experiences, and because we're at different points in our life, everything looks different, everyone looks different - and a song changes its meaning. a story begins at different chapters, some more significant than others.
that's my source of inspiration.
history.
because for me, my playlist contains my years, my songs, my diary crying out to me. this personal history doesn't just teach me about the past, it helps me grow, and maps my future. it's like a waffle, soaking up the conversations i had, the sudden stroke of ideas, the aspirations, the people i've met, or have decided to un-meet - and then fed back to me after awhile.
haven't you ever heard a song, and it sends shocks of nostalgia throughout your body. you close your eyes and a window opens in your mind. you're back in school, where radio was cool, that one song that bonded you and your classmates together, the one you sang together on stage on teacher's day - the one you shared with your first love.
and then as suddenly as the window opens, it closes, snapping you back to reality. but it's okay, because now you're done retrospecting, you bring forward the smile or tears. you close that book again, and again it lies in wait - for the next time it opens, telling another story. something to learn from, something to share with new friends.
it's how we are all connected.
stories we share.
we look back, to move on - and not stay stagnant. like winter that comes with the rushing wind, summer's just round the corner.
...
the first day of fall, is the last day i'll kiss the sky
the cold air surprises
my bones have been spoiled by the summers heat
the sun hides its face, and i'll hide mine too
sooner or later this winter will rain down and leave me to wait for one year
i'll be there
next year this time, i'll be there, i'll dream of the past and wish that i was there
i am burning the letters of days gone by
i'm sorry but i'm scared that my heart will regret all the things that i've done
breathe in
all of the ashes of my mistakes
gently collapse
and no one will notice you're falling too short of your breath
I'VE WASTED MORE TIME DREAMING THAN LIVING
I'VE WASTED MORE TIME DREAMING
cherish these days and enjoy every breath like it will be the last of your life
never look back
because you won't forget why you cry