We are so alive
That even night so dark
Is a stage to the nocturnals
We are so alive
That even death
Welcomes new life
Gives way to new sprouts
Long as we don’t dwell
Too long in the cold
In the loneliness
Seekers of love
In the remains
Feast of victory
To walk the path erased by time is to walk blindfolded behind the trail of your scent.
I seem to have forgotten everything but my faith in your love.
We’ve kissed each other in many different ways, many different ways to try to stick to each other, so much, they’d think we are one.
Each footstep takes me back to a future-colored past.
This place you’re taking me, don’t take me there unless you promise to stay.
Let me see your light crystallize into a smile, two beautiful eyes, and two arms that would take me into you.
And we’d sparkle with tears of stars.
And I’d start remembering everything again.
The queendom and the queen, our light gowns and our wings. And all the lovely things we used to do together along this path, one life time after another.
Neither of us remember
What you owe me
But here we are
Tips of body hair touch
Eyes on each other’s lips
Down to each other’s chest
Does giving it to me mean
Letting this happen
let us awaken
never to sleep ever again
let us serve life
never our egos ever again
let us love even one speck of dust
never to hate ever again
let us be
Strangely, I feel completely normal. Too normal. I feel that I have even become nicer to and more tolerant of most everything and everyone and less ticked off by them. Except that I haven’t been doing stuff that I love ever since my brother told me in the middle of the 19 nights ago: It seems that papa isn’t here anymore. Stuff that I love to do includes listening to music (mostly Lady Gaga’s) singing (on Smule), and daily tarot reading (which I occasionally still do out of force). Of course, this is just a façade. But, acknowledging the self-defense mechanism going on inside me doesn’t mean that I can break it at will. As much as I want to cry it all out, I just haven’t been able to find the channel to do it.
Music is like a good friend to the soul. Singing being the channel for my soul to express herself. And tarot is how I converse with the Universe –– me myself including. So, I can say that my subconscious still doesn’t want all that now. Deep down, I still want to be alone, guarding myself so as not to crack from the sorrow that I can’t feel. All I want is for the night to fall, so before I sleep I could send my prayers to the dear loving, funny man that had the guts to take up the role as my father (not easy) in my present life.
Basically, I am afraid to break down. Though above the water level I seem to have accepted the fact and the fate with all my high consciousness. I know I am just not that vulnerable enough for the black pit.
In the meantime I find solace only in Barbra Streisand’s Avinu Malkeinu, the Da Vinci Code’s Kyrie for the Magdalene, and The Nanny. I have grown a whole new level of obsession toward Fran Drescher, and even make an Instagram account dedicated just to her. I am the kind of person who, like my father, trust in the flow of the river. I trust in my journey, my demons and rainbows. And someday my river will take me to the right moment to break the cocoon open, ready to present the whole of better me with all my new wings to the world.
Damn, I miss you.
I have faith
In the excruciating pain of longing
For an ancient love that brought me to life
I have faith in the deep dark sea
And I let myself drown
Into the other side
The new day, the new meaning of life
In the language of my past
And something inside me melts
Into tears of longing
For how deep and real the ancient love once felt
The longing for my Father
The song that my Mother used to sing
Stretching her arms up
Eyes staring into the dark sky
Ripping her chest open
When she couldn’t wait any longer
To be reunited
Here I am your daughter
I am your consort
And yes I remember