Bliss

Let the clouds shift to another season, and let my life be filled with passion. Let all the things which are storms and gray battle against me as, soon, I'll be over them. Flourish my little life with all your blessings and smiles, and leave me be with peace and rage colliding in my heart. For I have nothing else but the days which are coming, and the ends of an earth revolving.

Who Would Listen?

Surfaces get rough and things go crazy. The things we hold in our hands--as if in an attempt to surprise us--all of a sudden, explode into chaos and disruption. And we're left with the deafening shatters that pierce through the nerves. We just end up not knowing what to do. We feel alone, we feel abandoned, we feel betrayed. Our hearts beat in a raging act. The only dream we have left  is to just scream it all out and loud. To say that we're so over with life.

In our attempt to make a noise...

...who would listen?

Who would be our witness? Who would be there?

As I contend in this walk of life, I realized how diverse people around could be. Some people would try to solve us as if we're puzzles with lost pieces--something we're not. Because we're unsolvable creatures and most times we don't need solutions, we need outlets. While the others, in their self-seeking, wouldn't really turn their ears towards anybody else. Most times, people themselves are even the cause why we feel the way we do. People shove us off. We shove off people. Others make us feel worse than we already are. And the news is, we do this to others, too. Our care is limited to what satisfies us to a certain selfish extent. 

I realized that the search for the answer to my queries is fatal and may be in vain. 

You say, what a negative viewpoint to place humanity in. But I'll say, this is humanity bared and revealed.

We were created in a very special way, something our own selfishness destroyed. We were supposedly for love and loving, but we, oftentimes, emphasize the sorrow of our neighbors. We pound broken hearts causing them to be in smaller pieces. We do this because we oversee the oceans other people are warring with, because we think we're the only ones hurting,  because we think that we're doing so well battling by ourselves that other people should do the same. Our own hearts are so and too loud, we can't hear others' despair. We can't care for others' brokenness.

This is a sad truth but this may not define the whole of humanity. And I may actually be wrong. 

I'd be sincerely glad to be mistaken after all... for our call is to love and our gift is to be loved. If for one moment, we would stop and turn to see around us. To really see. To unveil our self-righteous or our self-focused eyes, to take in the sight of others. Maybe we would understand. Maybe the chaos in our core would be quieted. Maybe compassion could melt our melancholy. Just... scientifically, I don't know, but just maybe. Maybe the love that's been sleeping in us would mean something and would do something. 

You're asking, "Who would listen to me?"

You hear someone else asking, "Who would listen to me?"

Who would?