SIMPLICITY

I am a desert conquered by one grain of sand.

Uncountable in numbers but can be described by a single particle.

Unreachable in distance but I’m just a bunch of sand after all. 

I am chaos kneels before order.

Complexity faces simplicity

And I can’t turn against your gravity.

I love you because I see myself in yours.

I love you because you explain me…

…with your simplicity.

RAINFALL (2)

Time passes, left you far behind as a memory. But it’s not really over, I guess.

The velvet sky suddenly faded into grey. I heard the rumbling of thunder. Then it was pouring outside. I was in the back seat of a taxi on my way for a late lunch. The taxi’s window indistinctly deflected one existence; hence I doubt I perceived the person I used to know, intimately. But it was really you. Standing among the rain, waving your right hand with the same smile as always: satirical, contagious, mysterious.

I used to call you the rainfall. The one who always makes me never wet enough. The one with eyes lingo that can splashes alphabets in random order. And you’re still there, stepping your own meadows that belongs only to you. And I can never be a dweller on it.

Then, I was suddenly stranded. No clue, no sign, no omen, only the rain. Those physical vehicles – the taxi and my body – finally brought me for a late lunch. But it left something I didn’t even realize at first until my curiosity trapped me in one huge question mark: what is this about?’

Among hundreds of days in a year, why did the universe pick that day for us to running into each other? Sort of a fucking serendipity?

What was behind the rain, you, and I – the rain lover? Kind of a goddamn synchronicity?

All of a sudden, I lost my appetite. Those fancy, delicious appearance food was no longer attracted me. Deep down inside, there’s something needs to be fed, needs to be gratified. And I still believe it hungers for only one thing: the rainfall. Even for a single drop.

Fragments of time have been leading us almost everywhere. They drove us to the world where we laughed and cried together, yet to the stillness where we felt we were the owner of this world. And at last, it brought us nowhere.

Call me blind for I see you as the rainfall. But it was also you who made me blind, didn’t you? There’s a thin difference between loving an object after a figure. And I had no idea, whether you were a figure instead of a mere object.

The only thing becomes precise now is you will always be the rainfall: the symbol of impermanency, the representation of a never ending cycle. The messenger of the universe as well.

RAINFALL

“Count on me as the rainfall,” you indistinctly gestured it, but your eyes lingo’s clearly told me just that. It was the first thing came up in mind with no reasons at all, no explanations either. You don’t need such things, do you?

I always love rain as I enjoy reading the language on your face. It is a gift from the universe, but an overwhelming one will lead into calamity. It makes the buds sprouted, but in the other way around causes flood. Forget about human intervention on the last one! That’s not what I currently intend to talk about. Or perhaps, I don’t want to end up in a never ending debate which always wins you.

And your face which is suddenly becomes rain in my eyes, splashes alphabet in random order. It mostly comes as drizzle, but sometimes poured out heavily. Trade your eyes with mine, and you’ll discover how rich yours with space. One gigantic world, but tiny enough for me as you’re the only dweller on it. Both of us could possibly step on the same meadow, but there’s no guarantee we perceive the same grass.

“I begin to believe that you’re such a rainfall in human form,“ I whispered to convince myself. I am wet enough already before you came but I have no answer why this umbrella did nothing. The denser the clouds who sent you, the more I found myself dry. Perhaps, that’s why I don’t need this umbrella.

And at last, I found myself rotten …

Transformed into liquids …

Diluted …

Aqueous …

But still, eagerly to be showered by the rainfall: you.

FIX YOU

Midnight falls and your Winamp still plays the same song. You enjoy it in silence, neither the lyrics nor the melodies verbalized in your lips. We exchange a glimpse but it explains much. The way we look each other, the way this stillness emerges.

“I will try to fix you,” said Coldplay in the Winamp. Thirty minutes with the same sequence of tones and that ‘I will try to fix you’ suddenly becomes a mantra. I’ve been getting used to read metaphors in your eyes, in your gestures.  I believe – instead of, directly tell me what you feel – you set it up in purpose, didn’t you?

I muse on what’s been happening with us. Six months, started with an unexpected occasion. There you were, tricked me with a very sanguine smile. I don’t know you did that to merely impress me or you were showing the other side of you. Six months, and I eventually found you more phlegmatic-melancholic.

This hush is getting stiller and the “I will try to fix you” sounds more intimidating. Being accused for unknown mistakes, feeling guilty for something I don’t even realize. And you choose silence to explain it.

“Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones…” I dig more into the lyrics and find it is more encouraging rather than teasing. Feeling, I went nowhere. It was you who live your own world, creating boundaries so there’s no way for me to enter. But even if you assume I go somewhere else, I see no lights you ignite to guide me home. Or perhaps, I am already color blind as you inflamed green light but I saw it blue.

We exchange another glimpse and there’s a flash in your eyes. It bewitches me to stay still, steals alphabets out of my head, and fulfills me with ‘I will try to fix you’. For God sake, don’t lead me into resentment. But there you are, acting like a judge for any mistakes I don’t even know.

Tracing the last six months and I find everything’s just fine, I guess. I don’t intend to blame you for choosing metaphors to articulate your hearts as I see nothing’s wrong on them, perhaps. And blaming the universe of providing a space for us to be together is negligible. The only thing I know is we were there, at the same space and time, exchanging same senses I falsely interpreted as love.

I think… I will try to fix myself by listening ‘I will try fix you’ more frequently.

CLOSE THE CURTAIN, PLEASE!

The moon silhouette behind my semi-opened curtain. Calmness, hush, stillness. One perfect night for contemplation before bed time. But out of the blue, here comes a message: less expectation leads into extra surprises. The universe has just whispered it right after the moon break open the black clouds.

Sound of horny geckos somewhere in the ceiling. An annoying – intermezzo, entr'acte, interlude. One clear intervention to bring me back into realm before bed time: what was that mean? Hence the universe’s whisper exponentially dilute into the air. I’m now whispering to my own self right after the black clouds vanished behind my semi-open curtain.

“None of us can choose what surprise tomorrow will bring; none of us can escape it.” The moonlight answers, perhaps. I heard no voice come out of my throat. “Then why do you keep questioning what you expect – less, more, or even something in between?” it continues.

“I don’t even think I expect something.” I’m trying to defend myself with a big lie. Who the hell was that – the moonlight or perhaps the horny geckos – which brave enough to judge what I’m thinking?

“There’s a difference between expecting nothing at all than less expectations. Less expectation means you still expect something, even though it’s too small to be counted,” here comes the voice again – the moonlight or perhaps the horny geckos.

“Is it?”

There’s no answer, only the moonlight and the horny geckos.

Five seconds …

Thirty seconds …

One minute …

Still there’s no answer.

I rise and walk to the window. Grab the curtain’s rope and expel the moonlight – also the horny geckos – out of my chamber. “I don’t want big surprises; a small one will be more than enough already. I’m sorry, I have to close the curtain. It’s time to sleep now!”

“Have a nice dream, you there!”