Monthly Archives: September 2012

LOVE IS PAIN. LOVE IS SUFFERING

How absurd is the desire of a man?

Who trades the gem he possesses to covet what is but half in value

How confusing is the affection of a woman?

Who loves you less the more you love her

How foolish is the lass?

Who, at the simplest of kind gestures, falls hopelessly

How tragic is the lad?

Who once loved with all his heart, but is now an empty shell of dearth and apathy

How sad are the newlywed lovers?

Who have just run out of love to love with

How loyal is a man’s love

That it remains faithful through a thousand temptations

How simple is a woman’s love?

That endures on even as her lover submits to vagaries

How wise is a girl’s love

That ignores the struts and vaunts but peers into the heart

How inspiring is the boy’s love?

That after yet another broken heart, continues to love with what’s left of it

How enduring is the love of an old withering couple

That they find new ways to love each other despite it all

5R

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Rebirth

David opened his eyes 5 years after he last closed them. His trigger memories did not return to him right away. He was capable of thought but not yet with words or language. He couldn’t move his body but his vitals were functioning on their own now. He was naked and suspended in what is best described as air. If he remembered what being at peace was, he would say he was peaceful.

A globe, the size of his head, like a shiny blob of liquid mercury, hovered above him. It was shimmering as if continuously adjusting its form, maintaining its spherical shape. It hovered with a hypnotic stillness. He looked at it without curiosity or fear or any emotion at all. His eyes focused on it because that was all there was to focus on. He had started to feel sleepy before the liquid ball changed form, oblong now, and began to glow, a pulsing dull green.  The light grew in intensity and suddenly spilled out in the form of a laser sheet. The sheet of green light slowly moved across his torso, scanning his body from head to toe. When the light reached his toes, the colour changed to blue and it started to scan back upwards to his head. The light abruptly went off and the blob returned to its former shape. If David was connected to his higher senses, he would have felt an intense feeling of well being as the light coursed over him. A thought was imprinted in his mind which can be best translated into words as ‘You’re almost there.’ The globe hovered away from him till he could not see it again. He slept.

Recall

He woke. Things were different this time. He remembered everything. He remembered his wife and children. He remembered his mission. He remembered his—-death. What is going on, he thought. Is this heaven? He remembered what he saw the last time he was awake. Everywhere was white. He could see only his body. There was absolutely no sense of scale. Because there were no shadows, he couldn’t tell where the room started or ended. He couldn’t tell if he was even in a room for everything was emitting light but not light that cast shadows. It was intangible light, that didn’t cast shadows or blind him. He was lying down and he got up. He was held up, but by what force he could not tell. He could walk but walking didn’t feel like going anywhere for there was no relative movement of anything else. He called out in English but absolutely no sound came forth. He screamed, ‘HEY,’ but nothing.

Then a thought came into his mind. It was not his thought. It was not inspiration. It was imprinted, stamped. It was very alien and intrusive. It was as loud and clear as anything he had ever heard. The thought was not in a language. It just was. The thought told him, “You died. You’re reborn”

He didn’t know how to respond. He tried to speak but remembered what happened earlier.

Another thought was deposited into him, ‘Whatever you think, we’re privy to it’

You mean you can hear me, he thought. Who are you?

Who we are is not important. Who you are is.

 

To be continued

Remembering 9-11

September 11 was the most shocking event I have ever been alive to see. When the Nigerian dictator, Sani Abacha, died, that was a close second. Theories abound about what really happened on 9-11 and who really is responsible for all those deaths. Falsehood will not outrun truth forever. All will be made bare one day. But this is not a time for politics and theories or any of that. Let’s spare a moment and contemplate the manner of evil and loss that happened on that day. We should never forget.

V for Vescucci

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Who are you?

Who?
Who is but the form following the function of what; and what I am is a man in a mask.

Oh, I can see that.

Of course you can.
I’m not questioning your powers of observation.
I’m merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

Right.

But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona.

Voilà!

In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate.
This visage, no mere veneer of vanity is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished.
However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition.
The only verdict is vengeance, a vendetta; held as a votive not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.
Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose.
So let me simply add that it’s my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.

 

At least he admits he’s veering towards verbosity.
© V for Vendetta. In case you do not already know.