Moments


Moments. Have you ever thought about it? Sometimes the system of lies and deceit of happiness is too malleable, and too serene that you let things slowly devour the best of you and you keep waiting for the right time and right moment to embark on journeys of life and love. Too humane and prosperous, journeys often start with a smile on the faces – with backpacks packed the perfect way, screams from your fiancé so deliberately asking you to fit that one pair of her shoes in your suitcase because she doesn't have any space left; or your mom who mercilessly puts the mango pickles wrapped in old newspaper into your small briefcase; or your dad who gives you his new pants with no words but a sarcastic smile; or your sister asking you to bring her some souvenirs from the faraway land, which you will, but for the satisfaction in annoying her, you tell her no now. Moments where you try to deceive yourself from the world, and craving for that momentum in yourself, you embark on this adventure or so. You have given a name for this journey – a vacation, an adventure, a trip. Being sunburnt amidst the sand in beaches, being out of breaths along mountainous terrains, finding a soul rushing epiphany in the middle of clouds as you jump off airplanes and experiencing the hold gravity has on you. But what is it all for? You say it’s a break, a moment of bliss apart from all the idiosyncrasies of your life at least. Oh how beautiful the earth seems in those in-betweens! Were these rocks always this white? Was the snow always so beautiful? Was the air always so soothing? Then, you run. You run for the hell of life. Getting the runner’s high in the middle of a sandy beach somewhere during sunset, you imagine life couldn’t get better than this. What type of drug is actually living? 


But things don’t end right here. Someone who sleeps like a maniac everyday finally gets the intrinsic urge to wake up early for the sunrise in the sea, or in the mountains. With the plethora of life that gets alive every morning with those rays of light as they so beautifully blend in the crispy chill water on an autumn morning, or the life that soothingly opens up with every little shine the snowy mountains give to you alone, you sense a liberation in yourself about why the world has always praised sunrises after all. The warmth in it, the life in it, you feel like your astrophysics degree has just begun with this daytime stargazing today. So magnificent the earthy smell feels to you now. In shorts and t-shirts, with your white sandals being entirely covered by a pool of sand one day; in your thickest jackets and trousers, with your boots being entirely devoured by snow some other day, things exist. You exist. Was this a break from life, or for life? You question. You know the answer, and yet, you question. Because when you return in private jets to your table, to your pen, to your paper, to the work you can barely live without, everything comes around in a circle. You search for those moments in lattes, in conversations, in scarves of autumn, in reads of rain, in smiles of strangers, and everything starts to be lively again. And boy you missed doing equations with a cup of Americano!

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Submerged

It saw. In the platonic save, rose a rose, embedded with thorns,  shaking the road, breaking the roar, the pigeon screamed of peace, with white feathers— daunting, revealing, veiled with misery, and in the dead liberty. It screamed of peace, and it was shaken, given the nude clothing, cut through the scars, mutilated through the wars and bereaved  like an uncanny grief. Silent it stood, with the obscure of black obstinating  through the core.  And then in the abyss it stayed empty awake, peace was never an option. Yessing, guessing and dressing, sins of hopes, and dreams of hypocrisy, surprisingly wise, sublimely unwise, and when the trigger clicks, the rainfall, colors of transgression, a rainbow of just unjust, disrupts the ever scared sacred breath, just to tell it, the color white always gets the dirt quick! Like the monotonously pierce riot tearing the canvas, a humble silence breaking the crowd, cheers of life, applause of a beginning, the show began. The cage ...
Read more

11:11

I feel sad. I feel cold. As if something just ruptured my heart to endless pieces with a stick, I feel empty. Like a bare bottle lying around, like a crumpled sheet of paper, like a worn-out shoe and like the crusty leaf someone just stepped on. It's agonizing, you see, to be this fragile, to be this broken and to be this futile in the grand scheme of things. How could you do this? As the visuals of the car rushing into my bare skin haunts me every single day as I stand uptight, as the shower curtains slowly trap me in their whiteness to make me feel smothered, I don’t know how long someone can hold onto this numbness. But sometimes, yes sometimes, I do feel you, your warmth, the way you could always find happiness in life, and how I am no way between them and am far away hoping to be asleep. Please, let me sleep. I don’t want to do this anymore. There is no more hope left in me now, beloved, no more.  Don't lie to me anymore. Make this over. I’ll never be me again. Please, shu...
Read more

Snow

Image
How beautiful is the world outside me! The blue of the morning and the foggy afternoons I crave as I stare at the leafless trees drenched in vast nothingness, holding onto naked branches as they try their best to let go. Nature always has a say in the chaos, in the entropy of life and lifelessness, but it missed the human soul. In those shimmering lights from cars and buses, I see a foreshadowing of my own, with trembling fears and a scarred red, waiting silently for the lights to go green. It snowed, and I could sense that wet feeling of coldness on my skin. For once, I knew what cold feels like when it does not come from within. For once, I knew that there was something colder than me. For once, I wasn’t alone in this coldness, and for once, I felt happy. In the nights without jackets as I walked in the streets waiting for the coldness of the wind, I was reminded that there was lifelessness waiting for me. It was cold, it was what I needed. In those sweet shivers I felt with every br...
Read more

I hate sunrise

I remember nothingness as it seized my being into this voodoo doll of cascade of mourning smiles and loud silences. Walking to the mountains, clipping the fingernails with my teeth beside the campfire, the hollow stare at the white snow, the breeze of allegory of the stained flakes that pierced the sunshine the same way the abyss does to me. You see, I have always liked mountains for this scene. You see a sunrise; I see a murder. Who said sunrise was a beginning was perhaps a coward looking for hope. But the reality of existence is one of non-existence: one cannot fathom a sin of not living, and yet he lives a dead life every day. He is rotten with every sunrise. The depth of loneliness he feels in those bright black walls – all shining through his epiphanies and lifelessness – the closed eyes that see life more than the open ones, I am disgusted by everyone who calls darkness horrible. They don’t feel his honesty, they don’t feel his breathing beats and they don’t feel the rusty smile...
Read more

Ghost

 I remember the summer night with me on the stairs wishing,  wishing I could let go of you and see you past that door of epiphany, but I stood there holding your arms. I couldn't set you free.  As I look around running cars now,  a trepidation slithers through me. I see you in front of them --- your shallow, hollow figure  caressing the cold with your bare hands, smiling at the unknown and I pass to you --- through you because you look beautiful. Nah, you look happy.  In the rain, as my wet self walks around in its adventure, I see your hope piercing my heart  questioning my silent epitaph and feeling so grotesque.  I lie down, in those desolate muddy roads and cars pass by me, but I am strangely still there.  I see you asking me for a cup of coffee. I see you explaining functions to me.  I see you.  But this happiness that arrives with you,  my dear, I can't take it anymore.  Don't corrupt me, please.
Read more