Destiny is like a lizard
when it finds its prey
it becomes invisible
it’s colors matching its surroundings
ready to make its pounce
and other times
it gets devoured
when its seen
by birds that keep an eye
from up high
just like people
who look at the world
from up high
and find what they’re looking for
Why do we keep dreaming knowing it’ll never be
No expectations yet holding these wishes to a higher degree
Walking around with thoughts whirling round and round turning the world upside down
From limitless skies and otherworldly realms to dark dreary days serving as the graveyard of fun, folly, and plays
Like life and death itself
The end of a wishful thought is a death where the steady stream of hope and happiness comes to a sudden stop
And suddenly, the heart feels old and fattened
Like it’s been overfed with scrumptious fats but no energy nor real benefit comes
Except that its joy was only as long as it lasted, and suddenly it left like a parasite,
Leaving the body like burdened baggage.
Are these dreams ravenous parasites?
Sirens of the imagination, mystifying you until you catch your breath
And fall back onto your feet
With reality speeding past you with a steady momentum
Is this when thoughts become things, and reveal their true nature?
That indeed, you’re not worthy of such imageries, rather let it be enough that you can even witness a mirage
And destiny Says no
And maybe it says not now
And maybe it says not ever
But I will forever cherish the keepsake memory
If there even being a possibility
I will wait in patience
Until that which was unknown becomes apparent
And until prayers and destiny reach their verdict
no rush, I’m happy as I am.
Unfortunately what’s best is that time be taken for clarity
For both cases to be solved and given their due burials
And toss away our last living flowers of the past into it’s casket for cremation
After all, this ambiguity is well-wishing. Although it leaves huge gaping holes in my heart, I must accustom myself to the ice cool breeze willowing through this freshly carved cave
Perhaps one day it’ll become as magnificent and jeweled as the worlds oldest caves.
It’ll become my castle, my sanctuary of ever flowing hopes and dreams. Pure tears from the valley of my eyes, furnishing mirrored stalagmites of sincere desires.
Reflecting the years of sabr
and dedication, and the serene streams of honesty meandering through and through.
This is my artwork, this is my treasure, which no eye has seen.
And it’s all carefully crafted by my patience, sincerity, and destiny.
This is the immaterial heaven of my living self.
The throne of my mind-palace.
Note To My Sanity 