To The Unknown.

Like the clouds that hovers across the cerulean firmament,
your name is placed in the highest heavens.
O, the name which resembles eternal bliss,
completes the emptiness of the solitary soul.

Like the misty, cold air that traverses the vast pacific,
your name is placed in the midst of the tranquil oceans.
O, the name which epitomizes pristine serenity,
brings sanctuary and contentment to the decrepit soul.

Like the poignant, unbearable heat that drifts athwart the arid desert,
your name is placed amongst the sundry, colossal dunes.
O, the name which echoes warmth and compassion,
embodies the earnest desires of the melancholic soul.

And in the midst of the abyss and the indefinite,
there your name remains rested, distant and elusive.
O, the name continues to linger incessantly,
into the illusory world of the expectant soul.

Perfectly Impermanent.

The self goes out to find its perfect match, trying to look for that some one who embodies perfection and hoping to accidentally trample upon a god of sort, a being coming down from the zenith of mt. olympus to carry the self, bring it home and make it its own. Perhaps, it could have been a happy ever after, except that...

... the idea of perfection, though defined relatively, remains almost always superficial. Perfection appears only at the initial phase of romance but as the one reveals itself further to the self, it'll reveal things that might've perceived by the self to be perfect, at first. But in the end, the self will surely realize that the one is not what it envisions it to be, in its actuality, but perhaps, a de-emphasizing creature of certain flaws and imperfections derived from its very nature, from its 'humanity' or 'human-ness.' Incrementally, the one reveals itself to be some one ordinary, especially when set against some other ones who appear to be 'more' perfect.

So the self finds itself wanting, perplexed by the unprecedented circumstance beyond its grasp, and eventually the self, consciously or not, finally finds itself letting go of the one and getting out from its clasp, and looking earnestly for somebody else, for some one, another one, who embodies the definition of perfection - of more perfect.

And so the cycle of searching and leaving goes on...

Apparent Contradictions.

Was it me? Or was it you? Who failed to get a grasp of what we are trying to say. Of the messages we both want to convey. Of the meaning we both want to get across. It seemed that we are trying to blurt the same thing, of similar thought on a parallel circumstance.

Yet, it’s quite amazing, how one simple thing can become very complicated in our minds who consciously or otherwise looked at the same thing on different grounds in divergent perspectives. It’s quite funny, how in the end we realized that what we uttered are, after all, not different.

How it convoluted is due largely to the failure of our selves to establish, subconsciously, a point of juncture ensued by numerous factors contingent within the independent contexts we both thrive which perhaps include generation gap and comprehension level. You are older, I am younger. You’re already a faculty, I am still a striving student. The failure of our neurons to submit them selves into a unilateral treaty - to delve into a linear perspective and valuation - perhaps exarcebated what could have been so simple a conversation. But it is otherwise, it remained to be a calculated misconstruction, which inevitably led to further misconstrual of things.

Sad. How simple things could become so complicated in our minds.

Lingering Emancipation.

In the midst of transcendence, the self continues to falter.
And the agony of pain excruciates the physical self to its dreadful limitation.

Halted.
It is incapable of moving away from its statutory desolation.

Receptive.
The infinite struggle of wanting to be lingers as an elusive desire.

In the stillness of the moment, the self seeks to redeem itself.
But it is barred by constant reverie and inoculated perceptions of the surreal.

The manifest fluxes itself convincingly while the self thrives perpetually within in.
And in the midst of restraints, breaking free is the recapturing of the self –

The mending of the unwanted wounds left by the distant past.

Solitude.

Longing to emancipate from solitude,
Searching for the other half
to complete its being,
Seeking for a moment of temporary bliss -
for a moment of tender kisses
and passionate embrace -
The self concedes to the unknown,
Never wanting to let go,
Caught trapped and defenseless,
Total submission,
only to be left in solitude:

In the end.

Unrequited.

Dreary romance
enervates the soul
and engulfs the being.
It is meant not to last,
remains a transitory phase -
of elusive, sober expections.

Unrequited emotions,
deep longings and earnest yearnings,
seeking to be recognized,
if not at all remunerated.

Destiny foretold,
unfolds in time undesired -
confirming the fears
of the shattered self.

Love After Death.

To be human is to love and to experience how it is to be loved. To be human is to reach a point of termination called death. Love and death define humanity or "human-ness" or how it is to be human. But does love concomitantly exist with death, with the after-life as others may say?

Death is the termination of the corporeal self. It is when the physiological self ceases to function due to either internal abnormal biological condition or external infliction by a foreign body. Death is earthly life's ultimate recession.

Love, to qualify refers to a romantic one, is an inevitable yet vital human emotion or passion. Metaphysically, it is a driving force that atomically unites the universe and creates order in the cosmos. Love moves human civilizations, it the source of the ultimate desire of "belonging-ness," and of union.

But romantic love does not end with death. For love, as a dynamic form of energy obeys the law of physics, such that it is neither created nor destroyed. It is tranformed or transferred from one form to another. It follows a cyclical pattern of transformation from potential to kinetic to potential.

Love, thus, cannot not exist.

But where does it go the moment the physical self terminates?

Probably, it remains to be the mystery of universal cosmic order left concealed and unfathomable to the human mind for reasons not yet revealed.

Or probably, the moment the physical self perishes love stays behind and is left reverting back to its potentiality to preserve the universal order of things - the monistic substance that guides life and non-life. It remains to be in such form waiting to be used again by a newly existing lofe form.

Or probably, the relativity of the order of the universe and all the contingencies existing within in suggest variegated instances of a particular self unidentifiably existing somewhere across space and time. The other selves, of the same self, is either complementary or supplementary to it, which fulfill or continue what the self failed to accomplish. Love is continued to be pursued in those other selves.

Or probably, it "dies with the self, to the grave it goes, to be remebered until time erases its trace."

Certain and still, everything remains enigmatic and unsolved, - a mystery to the human intellect -
for it does not know and there is no way to. Theoretical assumptions are void of proof, remaining to be cycle of never-ending possibilities, and improbabilities.

Death itself does not guarantee coherent answers to the prying intellect, to the seemingly endless inquiries;
"because some questions are not meant to be answered in this life time. May be in the next, reasons will ensue."

IF the NEXT does EXIST...

A Sensuous Stupor.

Fleeting horizons, ecstatic state
Held tightly in close proximity to fulfillment
Desperately in need, blazing desire
Yearning for a piece of heaven
On a fiery, temporal earth

A turbulent moment
Of concomitant gratification
Deep longing to satiate
With ruffian tendencies
The ephemeral cravings
Of the feverish selves

Senses stultified
Perplexed by ardent emotions
Confused by overwhelming ardor
Indulging the selves –

Into a misty, fiery fusion
Attachment enraged by persevering thrusts
Countered by a rancorous, tight grip
Never wanting to end,
The satisfying circumstance
Synapses overloaded, collapses with time
Like eternity nearing termination

Rhythm beneath motley emotions
Absolute flickering coalescence
Poignant, piercing sensation
In each undulating movement
Sycophant eyes communicate
With intense, fleeting desire

Accelerating motion
Deep rhythmic passion
Enervation of the selves
In favor of a transitory nirvana
Total submission,
For climactic means, to an orgasmic end