Monthly Archives: August 2016

restart pointer.

Standard

 

How many times have I faced this gate?

It towers, iron and steel, offering no preview beyond. There’s colourless light filtering through; there’s darkness misting at the bottom.

I’m not sure I want to go through it again.

After all, what has it brought me? A period of doubt, insecurities, fears. What if I can’t perform? What if I make all the wrong choices– and end up less than what’s expected of me?

The greatest question lurks, unanswered after all these years. Who will I become?

I try to catch a glimpse of my friends’ futures. I see no darkness for them. I see light all around, like the Hollywood three-point camera– haloed, soft, perfect. The incandescence of their futures makes me envious. How I wish I could walk upon the very roads their feet tread upon and follow in their footsteps.

Become them. Be them.

Their insecurities bring me fear. Their fears bring me doubt. Their doubt gives me despair. How could they– who have everything– hesitate in their own talents and abilities? If only they knew how much I wanted theirs– would they still doubt?

But maybe, I’m looking too much skywards. I see so much of their illumination, I lose sight of mine. Funny, isn’t it? When the red carpet you have desired (for so so long) is rolled out before your feet, you take a step back. ((Do I deserve it?))

I’ve come so far. (Why do I feel like it has barely begun?) I can start afresh. I can do everything I wanted to do and couldn’t do.

(Why does it feel so daunting?)

Tell myself I’m talented too.
Tell myself I belong here.
Tell myself I need this.

I can prove others wrong. I can emerge victorious this time.

My stage. My script. My direction.

My voice. My hands. My feet.

Starting all over again– doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

 

 

Advertisements

teach me, senpai.

Standard

teach me your ways, Great Master
of stringing and threading
fine wools of words
into soft tuft clouds
against a bright blue sky

show me your ways, o Master
turning sweat into rivers
shaping shifting shredding
mountains of men

teach me, Master
to sing the heart’s praise
to sing of dead men and legacy
to sing of champions and glory
humanity and tragedy
wistful; nature’s melodies

tell me,
how do I turn frogs into princes
wool into gold
pumpkin into carriages
kisses into miracles

and maybe, just maybe
i can walk in the footsteps
of those before me.