Whatever comes our way,
Whatever bad we have raging inside us,
We always have a Choice.
My friend taught me that.
He choose to be the best of himself.
Its the choices that make us who we are,
And we can always choose to do what is Right.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Namesake
How many roads have I wondered?
None and each my own
Behind me the bridges have crumbled
No question of return
Nowhere to go but the horizon
Where, then, will I call my home ?
None and each my own
Behind me the bridges have crumbled
No question of return
Nowhere to go but the horizon
Where, then, will I call my home ?
Friday, February 15, 2008
The Journey to GoNdOLiN
1.1 DUNSHEN
The sun shone harshly over the brazen fields of Dunshen. The clear cloudless sky had no sign of life, and darkness inevitably was sooner or later to be summoned. Once a beautiful landscape blessed by the gods, Dunshen now is a lifeless wasteland withered with the corpse - the dead floating on bloody puddles left behind by the raiders.
Above at the approaching dark end of Dunshen stood the great forest of Volden. A symbol of myth and enigma to the aborigines of Dunshen. None dared to venture into the deeps of Volden. It had been cursed by a wicked spell when they banished the king in to the jungles of Volden.
Darkness far below the lower reaches of the jungle sheltered a small hut that sparkled in the desolate night with a fire by its side. The cool breeze carried with it the smidgen smell of food hanging by a pot above the fire. Near the fireplace, sitting below an alpine tree a shadow played a strange kind of music, with an instrument as strange as him. It was a golden pipe, long and slender. With every note of music he piped in, a presto of sparkling bells swiveled at the other end of the pipe. The fire cast a shade of crimson to the skin on his old face. Wrinkles shown above his high cheekbones with his eyes sparkling sharply let a long silver beard run down the red cheeks. He wore a grey robe, and to his left, on a stone by his side was kept the long pointed hat, and a long uninteresting wooden stick. The phoneme carried itself far into the silence of Volden, piercing through the deep-rooted, closed camaraderie of the trees, and the wilderness. The maudlin sound of his music made a call into the jungle, attempting to summon something that would relieve him of his age-old bondage. From some dark curse.
As time passed through the night, the piper’ music and the darkness vanished into the jungle. Dawn approached with the nearby Malena treating the fauna that visited her waters. Malena, the river ran across Dunshen, down from the great mountains of Moldor to spread across the land of Dunshen. Moldor was at Far East of Dunshen and rose up to the heavens. Moldor wide and huge was home to the once mighty dwarves. The dwarves of Moldor, once an ally of the gods of heaven fought arm to arm alongside men against the Gondolins. Since then, no one heard of them except that there exists no gateway into the Moldor to the dwarves.
At Dunshen beautiful species of butterflies fluttered with their colorful wings over the placid water of Malena. Pebbles and miniature rocks emanating from the surface looked like gemstones jaded into the heart of Malena. It was spring that added to the soluble joyfulness of the morning. But a hint of cold wind brought with it the melancholic paleness of the fate of Dunshen. The raiders had ripped its heart open and the serenity of the water marked yet another phase of calmness before an even more terrible storm arrived upon this land.
The orange starfish, ciliated with spots on its body lay slipshod below the shallow surface of the clear water. Under the sunlight these spots gleamed like pearls. Purple flowers like flakes of snow ascended from the dark barked redwood trees above on the huge reef overhanging the river. When suddenly the thud of a spear smashed into the creature. White blood oozed out and dissolved itself into Malena. Faint gallops sounded somewhere near the banks. Someone was being chased while the starfish served as a victim of the unforeseen wrath. Was it the fate of Malena to smelt all the pain of Dunshen into itself?
Elish’ steed splashed swiftly across the water. Three mercenaries sped behind her ferociously. Heavily armed with spears and swords they carried along a red banner that bore an ancient golden insignia. Armored from head to bottom, their eyes razed into the terrain they cast them upon. Dry leaves rustled away from the path with every gallop their horses took, and the wind seemed to come to a stand still. She rode fast with a somatic fear, her rein being weakened by a prolonged chase. Unknown to the terrain of Dunshen, she quickened frantically towards Volden. The majestic coniferous of wooden Volden seemed to be her only hope of escape.
There was little time left when the orb- the gateway would close forever. As time slipped by, the orb shrunk. She had to reach to it as soon as possible. The hunters were closing in on her. She had almost reached the woods leaving the raiders still a few yards away when Elish pulled back the reins of her steed. Raising its forelimbs high up against the sun, the steed turned back in an effort to obey its master’s command. Her face shone brightly with the striking cerise beauty she was. Her grip loosened on the mane. And she fell back elegantly to collapse up on the meadows. Slowly she parted her lips to utter but her propinquity faded away with a dazzle as ephemeral as a fleeting thought. What was left behind was a haversack.
The guards astonished at the outcome of the ambush hideously rushed to seek the contents and vanished away.
1.2 THE REBELS
Moknd cleaned his tomahawk …….. (to be continued once the author finds some time ;)
The sun shone harshly over the brazen fields of Dunshen. The clear cloudless sky had no sign of life, and darkness inevitably was sooner or later to be summoned. Once a beautiful landscape blessed by the gods, Dunshen now is a lifeless wasteland withered with the corpse - the dead floating on bloody puddles left behind by the raiders.
Above at the approaching dark end of Dunshen stood the great forest of Volden. A symbol of myth and enigma to the aborigines of Dunshen. None dared to venture into the deeps of Volden. It had been cursed by a wicked spell when they banished the king in to the jungles of Volden.
Darkness far below the lower reaches of the jungle sheltered a small hut that sparkled in the desolate night with a fire by its side. The cool breeze carried with it the smidgen smell of food hanging by a pot above the fire. Near the fireplace, sitting below an alpine tree a shadow played a strange kind of music, with an instrument as strange as him. It was a golden pipe, long and slender. With every note of music he piped in, a presto of sparkling bells swiveled at the other end of the pipe. The fire cast a shade of crimson to the skin on his old face. Wrinkles shown above his high cheekbones with his eyes sparkling sharply let a long silver beard run down the red cheeks. He wore a grey robe, and to his left, on a stone by his side was kept the long pointed hat, and a long uninteresting wooden stick. The phoneme carried itself far into the silence of Volden, piercing through the deep-rooted, closed camaraderie of the trees, and the wilderness. The maudlin sound of his music made a call into the jungle, attempting to summon something that would relieve him of his age-old bondage. From some dark curse.
As time passed through the night, the piper’ music and the darkness vanished into the jungle. Dawn approached with the nearby Malena treating the fauna that visited her waters. Malena, the river ran across Dunshen, down from the great mountains of Moldor to spread across the land of Dunshen. Moldor was at Far East of Dunshen and rose up to the heavens. Moldor wide and huge was home to the once mighty dwarves. The dwarves of Moldor, once an ally of the gods of heaven fought arm to arm alongside men against the Gondolins. Since then, no one heard of them except that there exists no gateway into the Moldor to the dwarves.
At Dunshen beautiful species of butterflies fluttered with their colorful wings over the placid water of Malena. Pebbles and miniature rocks emanating from the surface looked like gemstones jaded into the heart of Malena. It was spring that added to the soluble joyfulness of the morning. But a hint of cold wind brought with it the melancholic paleness of the fate of Dunshen. The raiders had ripped its heart open and the serenity of the water marked yet another phase of calmness before an even more terrible storm arrived upon this land.
The orange starfish, ciliated with spots on its body lay slipshod below the shallow surface of the clear water. Under the sunlight these spots gleamed like pearls. Purple flowers like flakes of snow ascended from the dark barked redwood trees above on the huge reef overhanging the river. When suddenly the thud of a spear smashed into the creature. White blood oozed out and dissolved itself into Malena. Faint gallops sounded somewhere near the banks. Someone was being chased while the starfish served as a victim of the unforeseen wrath. Was it the fate of Malena to smelt all the pain of Dunshen into itself?
Elish’ steed splashed swiftly across the water. Three mercenaries sped behind her ferociously. Heavily armed with spears and swords they carried along a red banner that bore an ancient golden insignia. Armored from head to bottom, their eyes razed into the terrain they cast them upon. Dry leaves rustled away from the path with every gallop their horses took, and the wind seemed to come to a stand still. She rode fast with a somatic fear, her rein being weakened by a prolonged chase. Unknown to the terrain of Dunshen, she quickened frantically towards Volden. The majestic coniferous of wooden Volden seemed to be her only hope of escape.
There was little time left when the orb- the gateway would close forever. As time slipped by, the orb shrunk. She had to reach to it as soon as possible. The hunters were closing in on her. She had almost reached the woods leaving the raiders still a few yards away when Elish pulled back the reins of her steed. Raising its forelimbs high up against the sun, the steed turned back in an effort to obey its master’s command. Her face shone brightly with the striking cerise beauty she was. Her grip loosened on the mane. And she fell back elegantly to collapse up on the meadows. Slowly she parted her lips to utter but her propinquity faded away with a dazzle as ephemeral as a fleeting thought. What was left behind was a haversack.
The guards astonished at the outcome of the ambush hideously rushed to seek the contents and vanished away.
1.2 THE REBELS
Moknd cleaned his tomahawk …….. (to be continued once the author finds some time ;)
Numb
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
November Rain
It was one of those rare sunny days when colors seemingly filled the day with brightness. It was the green of the grass beneath my feet. And the blue of the sky above my mind. Life blossomed with hurried enthusiasm. The flowers made a frenzy of moves, seeming again to make a dance. Faint breeze drizzled to the sweet music.
And I said to Me, ‘It feels like heaven.’
Sudden’ed’ by numbness again. Pins and needles dropped in my mind. The violence overcame the silence. It ran again through my mind. The unpurged images of the day crossed me. And I thought, ‘Do I have the thought to write anymore?’
My thought let the faint breeze invade my space, and it blew the unstained sheets of paper all around.
I looked at the river flowing nearby. It somehow seemed unreachable. I tried to write but the pen wouldn’t write. Only because I had wished it to. I frantically jerk the pen. I wish to fill the river into it. But no pain could bring in even tears to fill it. I could write no more. The river could not either. Not even dried water.
What would I write upon?
Life at times becomes the loneliest place you can ever imagine - Like the silence of its own graveyard.
The sun brought parched grass all around. And the moon’s absence turned the dream into a nightmare.
I don’t know why I spend my time writing things I don’t believe. With words that tear me apart. They try to force me.
All that I once held seem false. All that I once held is True. Whom else can I trust?
Now I stand alone without beliefs. The only truth that I know is You. And when I watch through the window pane, it’s the drops of rain. And it reminds me of the pain. I know I am not like them.
Shall time dwell and heal?
Written sometime in the March of 2006
And I said to Me, ‘It feels like heaven.’
Sudden’ed’ by numbness again. Pins and needles dropped in my mind. The violence overcame the silence. It ran again through my mind. The unpurged images of the day crossed me. And I thought, ‘Do I have the thought to write anymore?’
My thought let the faint breeze invade my space, and it blew the unstained sheets of paper all around.
I looked at the river flowing nearby. It somehow seemed unreachable. I tried to write but the pen wouldn’t write. Only because I had wished it to. I frantically jerk the pen. I wish to fill the river into it. But no pain could bring in even tears to fill it. I could write no more. The river could not either. Not even dried water.
What would I write upon?
Life at times becomes the loneliest place you can ever imagine - Like the silence of its own graveyard.
The sun brought parched grass all around. And the moon’s absence turned the dream into a nightmare.
I don’t know why I spend my time writing things I don’t believe. With words that tear me apart. They try to force me.
All that I once held seem false. All that I once held is True. Whom else can I trust?
Now I stand alone without beliefs. The only truth that I know is You. And when I watch through the window pane, it’s the drops of rain. And it reminds me of the pain. I know I am not like them.
Shall time dwell and heal?
Written sometime in the March of 2006
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Why EVIL wins ?
The evil of the world is made possible by nothing but the sanction you give it.
- Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged
All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.
-Edmund Burke
The spread of evil is the symptom of a vaccum. Whenever, evil wins, it is only by default by the moral failure of those who evade the fact that there can be no compromise on basic principles.
- Ayn Rand
- Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged
All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.
-Edmund Burke
The spread of evil is the symptom of a vaccum. Whenever, evil wins, it is only by default by the moral failure of those who evade the fact that there can be no compromise on basic principles.
- Ayn Rand
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