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what could fill this emptiness

when this emptiness need not be filled in

neither do it need to be replaced

with plastic smiles

and fun times

along with new stuffs

or things to do

what is not there when there are plenty 

to be cheerful of?

you.

yes, i miss you.

I can but I can't.

I respect that you submit to the pain and  you give in just so others win. And you said you will keep resisting the pain because you know hope flies around at the end of them all. But if the pain keeps striking you back and the pain doesn't do you any good, doesn't that tell you something about that flying thing? And yes, if you want to be completely healed, the pill to be taken is the bitter one. And it is hurting to see that just when the bitterness is felt, you choose to spit it out and wail at the 'Why is this pill taste so bitter?' And if you already know that you can't even treat the symptoms with the bitter pill, then treat the disease. It will taste thousand times bitter but in return, it will bring a thousand times of hope flying around you. I am dying to help you but I can't. I can tell you but I can't make you. I am not in your shoes. I'm just standing here looking at you from the outside. Perhaps I am wrong. But if I'm right, please do something my friend. I can do nothing.  I can only help by trusting that whatever decisions you make, they are created by the wisest and the best knowledge that you own.

We have to let people make mistake,

and trust that they will realise it, 

and correct it in time by themselves. 

                                            -Mike Scholey.

Things and other things.

I would never forget the first time I got my clothes sold on eBay. It was heartbreaking.

I was not ready to say goodbye. And to force myself to do so, was so mean. I touched for the last time, the soft satin feel of my favorite dresses. And I kept worrying if the new owners will take good care of my precious skirts and love them as much as I do. I could not bear to wrap those little tops that carries with them memories from the past. And there I was, spending my afternoon, sobbing in front of the huge pile of clothes. I was not proud at all for selling the dearest things of mine. They were the best of my pride. 

Despite the repeating pain, I continued selling. And then one weird thing happened. A gentleman bought six dresses of mine saying his Lola would love to have them all. As if that was not enough a generous offer, he bid on this one blouse but insisted that I don't deliver it to him but kept the money 'if that would help me pay for college fee'. I was utterly speechless. How in the world did he know I was in need of an extra help here? And was he out of his mind to just give a stranger his money asking nothing in return? 

I thanked him for the millionth time, humbled by his kindness and the comforting message it brings when it comes to losing my attachment to things. And then it occurred to me that it took the small pain of losing my pride to receive such portion of a miraculous blessing. 

For as we loose our hold on visible things,

 the invisible become more precious.

                                                                -Elisabeth Elliot.

My Daddy's Face

When I was a child, my dad's work shifts  would always require him to arrive home either late at night, mid afternoon or early in the morning. He would always come home smiling, being warm and supportive with our schoolwork. Everything's good. Nothing should ever change. Until one day when I returned home for holiday, an accidental glimpse at his face changed my life forever.

It's been a long time since I've seen this face - every wrinkle and laughing line, every tiny scar I never knew existed, every black hair that has turned half grey. That's the thing. We often forgot about it. When we talk with our family, we seldom look at them. We know each other by heart. So why bother looking?

I looked at his face again. I listened as it poured out the story. His skin had turned darker. Mum said sometimes his job requires him to stand for a few hours outside the building to assist visitors. Rain or shine, there was no option. I asked mum why his under eyes were black. She told me that he was having trouble sleeping because of the changing pattern of his shifts. There were times when he could have a good rest after work, but that time would always be spent paying bills, preparing our meals, sending us off to school and simply just watching us growing.  I asked her about his tired face. She told me he was constantly having fever but a sick leave was not what he wanted. He always wanted to work extra hours. In fact, he needed to.

Now beneath his happy face, I found that he is a sad man. I saw his worries. His fears. His limitations. His deep insights on life and family. How can I have been neglecting these?  We have always been a happy family and that mainly exist because he made it exist. He is the keeper of our bliss. He protects us from the pain of building the bliss. He fought the hardest when we are the happiest. And yet, he never complain.

Now that I am so far from him, his face is my strength. His face is the hidden answer when they ask me.

"Are you not tired?"

"Why are you so enthusiastic about this?"

"Why would you even bother to give your best?"

I have never really thanked my dad for his ultimate sacrifice. But I have gone this far - determined to give him back the rest that is always missing and to fulfill his hope that his children will make him proud. For now, I choose to thank him by remembering his face. And in whatever I do, to never complain.

O little heart

Be patient, O little heart,

Be not confused with voices of blame,

Be attentive to sweet tones of love.

Be patient, O little heart

Be joyful in mourning what is not to be lively,

Be not scared in what you believe in.

Be patient, O little heart

Be not forgetful for the earthly blessing,

Be extra careful not to regard it as a heavenly treat.

Be patient, O little heart

Be not weary and worried,

Be still and draw in the Higher presence.

Be patient, O little heart

Be slow to complain,

Be quick to forgive.

Be patient, O little heart

Be constant in seeking,

Be hopeful and 

faithful.

Be patient, 

O little heart.

Change.

It will hurt my uttermost self,

It will take away my source of pleasure,

It will not make me smile for certain times,

It will see me falling and wanting to give up,

But if,

it will help me face my deepest fear,

it will stop me from running the same circle,

it will bring to me the eternal joy,

it will help shine the brightest light,

Then I 

will do it.

Like A Child

Like a child

you cooed and mooed 

in your wildest dream

your eyes were shut tight

you rolled your body to your back

like a caterpillar

like a sleeping child

a piece of my heart reached out and

touched your cheeks

you moaned a soft groan

and I laughed gleefully and smiled

wondering if you're aware

that I am here watching

and guarding you from any harm  

Like a child

you laid yourself flat

down my bed, over my carpet

staring at me with your eyes half closed

they closed more as I reached out again

touching your nose, rubbing your chin

you surrendered to the moment 

as you pushed your head against my palm

asking for attention, longing for affection

Like a child

you drew closer and sat still

watching my shades shaking in pain

you heard the echoes of my outburst

like a child 

your eyes were wide and crystal clear

you kept still and listened

waiting for the sobs to subside

watching the drops of tears as they caught your sight

you curled quietly

your motion was muted except

for your ginger tail that 

gently and repeatedly

was brushing itself against my wet arms

and  i felt your heart reaching out mine

as if to say

are you aware

that I am here

watching and guarding you from any harm.

Like a child is dedicated to the loveliest pet companion I ever have, Beethoven.