For the eyes
that filled with a thousand sorrows,
For the mouth
that cried a thousand songs,
For the hands
that took a thousand lives,
For the mind
that suffered a thousand tortures,
For the legs
that walked a thousand miles,
For the heart
that lost a thousand dreams,
For the lips
that kissed a thousand mouths,
For the teeth
that ripped a thousand throats,
For the girl
that lived a thousand lives.


Maybe it was the rain. The clouds, the wind, the biting weather. She was in a continuous curious melancholy. The piano sang ancient words, long left unspoken. A small statue of a praying angel. A small candle, a peaceful expression. It sat on its knees like it was exactly where it was supposed to be. But, what about her? Where was she supposed to be? She has been in so many places, and yet none welcomed her. She has seen so many views, and yet none moved her. An open book. A short story. Was it a tragedy? Or a comedy? Maybe it was just life. In its pure but raw form. Life, with all the rot and all the flowers. Fall was coming. Rain was falling. And with it, all that once was. Gone. Washed away by the cries of the sky. Wailing grief. Quiet sorrow.

Why do the tears fall? What does she mourn?

Maybe it’s what could have been. What she could have become. Maybe it’s what has been lost and what has been found. Maybe it’s what has been known and what is known now. Existing is a state of being. And she just is.


We are humans.
We love, we laugh,
we cry, we hate.
We hope.
We despair.
We learn and
we forget.
And in the end
We live
And we die.

The most important thing in life is why we live. What is our desire. Our calling. That one thing we would move mountains for. Love? Family? Revenge? I don’t believe we are aware of it. Not really. Not in a conscious way. But we know of it. We breath it. We embrace it. And in the end, we die for it.

Desolation :
1. a state of complete emptiness or destruction
2. great unhappiness or loneliness

A great emptiness. A hollow state. We all felt that at least once. Desolation.

Humans are social beings. Interacting with each other is critical for our state of mind. For the peace of our soul. Being alone – lonely – for too long leaves it’s marks. And it’s so hard to come back from it. Once we fall that much, climbing back is hard.

Like the dark notes of a cello. Like the bitter taste of dark chocolate. Like the richness of silk. They are no comfort. They a reminder of what we are and what we’ve been. A reminder of what we could become.

A ritual of yearnings. Of dreams and wishes. Unfulfilled. Of the heavy weight of knowledge. Ignorance is a bliss. Knowledge is power. What is the answer?

Desolation is a state of being. And for all it symbolizes lack, it is heavy. A lead ball lodged into your chest. Pressing upon your heart. You don’t get sad. You don’t get angry. And happiness is a hollow feeling. And maybe you destroy because you have forgotten how to create.

But that’s okay. This is but a big world we live in. With things that you will once love. And things that you will once hate. But you will grow. You will climb from the pit you have hidden in and you will bloom like the gorgeous flower full of life you were meant to become all along. This is just a state. Just for a moment. It is to color you brighter. With darker colors, to make you more passionate when you will be filled with what you deserve. Life. Love. Joy. A chance to move on.


Perception. Everything is about perception. Our perceptions build the realities we live in. Be it good or bad, we tend to be a bit blind to what is happening in our lives. Why? Perception.

Credit : Jeremy Lishner

During our lives, we, as humans, experience all kind of moments. Normal ones, like breakfast, beautiful ones, like the first kiss with that person that makes butterflies dance in your belly, sad ones, like the death of a beloved pet, and what some people call traumatizing ones, like an abusive spouse. We, as the main characters of our lives, often don’t realize what is actually happening around us. It’s not our fault. We are only humans, fragile, breakable humans. And we can get hurt, like all living beings can. It is often, however, that we don’t realize we are hurt. Mentally, that is.

It’s a bit funny how we can twist things. We take what is real and paint over it and over ourselves until all we can see is the empty happiness of “nothing’s wrong”. And when someone comes and erases all that fake stuff that we hold on like the crazy idiots that we all are, we often respond in violent denial. “How can this be? No. You’re wrong. Leave and take your lies with you!” Isn’t it funny? How completely blind we can all be?

That is why the truth is often as describes as the “painful” one. Who wants the truth that shatters our whole world, when we can keep the lies that we tell ourselves and keep living in that bubble of comfort? Only a madman would want that. But isn’t it better, when we accept the truth, work on moving on from it and learning from our mistakes and then live a truly happy life?

You know what they say : better to rip off the band-aid fast, then prolong the suffering.