poppies in July

Hello June, won't be seeing you for another 11 months now. I wonder what is it going to be like the next time you're around. A different picture perhaps. I dread, yet I can't wait.
`
Time in itself is an essence for thoughts, just writing or talking about it, can bring out a sea of dreams, regrets, memories, atonements buried. Life in itself is fleeting, fragile. All these, in God's timing. He puts you there, at that place, at that time, with that people.
`
1/2 of 2009 is gone, 2010 is about 182 days away. It seems I started college yesterday, asked Him to show me the place to grow yesterday, celebrated Christmas yesterday, finished spm yesterday. The thing about reminiscence is- don't dwell too long, move on.

So yes,
'Tis Grace has brought me safe thus far,
and Grace will lead me home.

old and bony

Yes I think it's right, I think it would be appropriate/allowed now to be a little emotional (emotions are not limited to sadness only) and look in retrospect of things. And as the phone beeps and the tiny red box pops, I would like to think, to just sit here in the quiet corner accompanied by the sound of the table fan, the humid air, and my favourite worn-out hand-me-down pants.
`
We are getting old. Wrinkles and crinkles, here we come.

porpoise- dolphins

I've come to realise how much I missed youtube, and Ares now that I'm back. (Yes, no matter how seemingly trivial that just sounded like.) I've realised that 2010, is just one fleeting moment away. I would like to forcibly keep all the mechanics for clocks to tick, or people's different references of time, in a huge box.

But I am anticipating the future too.
`
Paradoxes and oxymorons. Sighs.

preview

I could tell you a million and one things, and you will never get to hear it. Maybe you will, in the future, but not right now. Then when is now?

He whose ways are higher than mine, He knows better.

life drafts

I make drafts. Drafts of pictures, pictures of people, people from random walks. Drafts of abstract things, drafts of words, words and more words. Drafts that I open and read through from time to time, adding or removing sentences, erasing the drooped corner of the mouth, shading the eyebrow. Satisfied briefly, I save it, and keep it that way for now.

What will you do if you wake up one morning and find that your life is a draft, that the real thing has yet to come?

the mosaic-ed face

There's so much more to bubbling up a thought, boiling and adding in the ingredients sourced from absurdity to create an almost instantaneous effect of a dish. I'm gripping onto something. And then I realise, that something never really existed in the reality of this life, it was merely what I conjured in the recesses of my mind, it was what I created in proxy of what should have been. That something was nothing to begin with, now everything just condenses into liquid and vaporizes. Thin air, that was what you were.

tape

Whatever that is received, it is sealed.
I thank You.
'continuity. fru!' and plenty more that i'm immensely glad.
What striked(s)-
Let go, let God.
`
It's not what stems from your mind, it is based on the power, His power, your heart.
`
Priorities, get them right.
`
i need to stop seeing you in every random object

You are, everything.

And I continue to walk in You; And I continue to find rest in You.
Teach me, mould me.
`
Which is better? The truth that hurts, or the lie that results in make-believe happiness?
And the conscience that is brought along with the lie birthing deep beneath.

I regret, but should I.

mis-thunder-stood

Outside, the dark sky rumbles.
Imposing thunder, yet caused by little ions.

Strike! Someone could be dead.
`
I have no more time to waste.