Echoes

Somewhere in a dimension There's a tsunami in the sky and a ruckus on the earth that brought me to my knees to say my "have mercies" and "I love yous." There's a trembling in the universe that tore open the sky, and it came raining endless flames - a great turmoil befall the people. There were those in dire, some in gloom, and others drenched in carnality, but oh, it came! The tsunami in the sky, the ruckus on the earth that tore open the heavens, a great turmoil befell the people. For it came, alas, while they were in deep slumber. ~ Myra

This hit me hard💔 And he still smiles.

There are times when I cannot read the things I write. Then there are other times....

The most interesting thing about a lucid dream is that you could do anything. You could fly a spaceship and literally go to the moon. You could go get those things you've always wanted. You could find your Venus. Get lost in the forest, mount a dragon, grow some wings, and fly in the clouds. You could gun down a president to end a war. You could potentially be a superhero. But all you do is cross a road, make a few changes, and perhaps chase a fly. Because that's all your brain can afford. #excerpt #Myra

Ages from now, a man is sitting on his desk when the world is turned upside down, when you could choose that the right spot for your brain is not your head and you want the position changed, where you could legally marry your dog and more fucked up mess, a man is sitting on his desk, one of the reasonable many few, he's questioning his own reality, earnestly trying not to conform to the ways of the recent world, he's torn between two opinions after so much time of fighting for what is right! And he shuts that voice in his head that keeps saying "if it makes them happy then it is right," only to scribble down on the white piece of paper he's been staring at for hours: "I wish I was born in the 20s." WTF NO! #excerpt #Myra

29th June, 2024. 1pm Dear, I write this to you today while sitting on a rocking chair outside my parents' house. The silence over here is deafening, and I'm almost in love with it. It sent my mind adrift, and I wonder whether my anger started when I was little or in my mother's womb. To say the least, I've been mad about every little thing since I can possibly remember. I can't tell you what it is, and I wish I could. Dear, the world is such a vast place, and I, I'm one clueless entity. I really do not know much. After thinking about it all, I realized that somewhere, somehow, I closed my eyes to this world, to open my eyes to the world of matter. And you know, there's this sister I grew up with, who would do every single thing and never get tired, while I just sleep and curse all day. She would not get mad when wrongly scolded, while I would get mad even when scolded rightly. After all these years of being apart and thinking things did change, that I did change, I spent a day with her and just wonder if a person can ever get better than this. I didn't curse, nor did I sleep, nor get obviously mad. I was on this chair, listening to the wind and rocking away, and wondering just how so much to so little can change in our lives. She's still the good kid. I've been most happy in these recent times over large and little things, but I'm still angry. I'm angry about the words I said just to regret them. I'm angry about the suicidal friend I couldn't help. I'm angry about the woman I lived with most of my earlier years that I'll never get to see again. I'm angry at this generation. I'm angry for those very things that changed me that I cannot tell a soul. Just how could I? And I'm angry at the act of being mad. And just now, rocking on this sit, did I finally accept the very thing that I've always known. I never liked it there, I never liked it here, nor have I liked anywhere, and I wonder if I'll ever like it anywhere. I accept just now that I'm the problem. For I am perplexed, I'm venomous, I'm drunken, I'm driven, by what I don't know, and right now, I just wanna sleep. #extract #Myra

MARTHA Together we lived in the golden street. Martha and I played on a silver swing. Tom tom tom, we sang in tune with the drizzling rain, and talked about the future we'd gain. Martha loved the sky, and I, afraid of heights. Martha and I both grew in the golden street. Our houses were made of silver string. I hit my guitar on a twang twang twang, she sang and twirl, all in daring swag, for she loved the sounds, and I, afraid of crowds. One morning came on a summer day. The sun was too bright, our world stood too high for the unplanned event that arose. My dearest cease to open her eyes. For my Martha I described the clouds, and I hit my guitar not so loud. She has come to hate the sounds, and I, still afraid of crowds. She tried to sing despite her lacks, and all the other kids just laughed. She went on to hate everything, and would hide herself from every being. We still sang with the rain on a tom tom tom, and I still played my guitar on a twang twang twang. Yet nothing in the air stood as fun, our world could not go to the way it was. Martha and I both grew in the golden street. Our houses were made of silver string. But my Martha now hate the sky and sounds, for her, I grew to face the heights and crowds. I still played my guitar on a twang twang twang, but she cannot sing, nor dance in her daring swag. Then came the winter night, my dearest cease to fight. For our world was too cold, little Martha could not keep hold. I came to love the sky, I knew my love live that high. Alone, I sang on our silver swing, my heart respond on endless twinges. Alas, she had to hate the heights, and I came to love the sky. Together we lived in the golden street, but our world was made of broken dreams. #narrative ~ Myra

This is why you're a cat 1. She watches from corners A dark shadow against the wall Hesitant with a calculated distance And no warmth to the stranger In these moments, her heart is a whisper, a secret she guards fiercely. A soft purr, a gentle nuzzle, a small fleeting glimpse of a tenderness she hides from the world. 2. Because her world is small -- a little labyrinth of measured steps and deliberate movements. 3. But for those who earn her trust, a rare few, she reveals a different side: a nudge, a softer gaze, a silent companionship that speaks louder than words. 4. In her eyes the universe unfolds -- a tapestry of hidden emotions, a secret heart that most will never get to see. She IS a mystery, a poem in motion, a story waiting to be told. happy birthday baby girl #treethugger <3 ........................................... A nice birthday present.