Fireflies

They say they built the train tracks over the Alps between Vienna and Venice before there was a train that could make the trip, they built it anyway, they knew one day a train would come.

Any arbitrary turning along the way and I would be elsewhere, I would be different.

What are foreign walls anyway?

They are what they contain, the house protects the dreamer, unthinkably good things can happen even late in the game.

It's such a surprise.

Some ask questions about what life is and what it means to be alive. People write philosophy explaining about it when they know only the surface of it, what lies beneath the core of a surplus moment is something like a puzzle which never comes out.

We are born to live thru and play a game called life full of puzzles and hurdles and we learn with every move we make every step we take and then we think about what has left behind.

Just when we leave a trail of our footsteps, it is always washed away by a wave along the shore waiting to arrive. There is nothing that one can take with, in the end and then there is all that one can never leave behind.A wave would always come erasing the path we followed.

But tomorrow never dies and some always return.

It hurts badly when you lose the one you love the most but the pain becomes unbearable, when the one you love is in front of you and your words just don't connect, when you haven't said the three most amazing words in English language and you wait for the right moment which never really comes. It is this moment when a change takes place. You lose the things you love the most, your inside cries for a change, you want to be the same person that you always were, you don't want to change but there are some serious demonic forces which start ruling you and there is nothing that you are able to do. The world feels like a small place totally fallen apart. The shadows of lust and sadness entangle you and something that is untreatable and unbearable, something whose clutches are more gripping then the forces of what holds this world together, and they grab you and leave you in a moment of complete despair. It is this moment when you realize that the person you were is not the person you are and this person who you claim to be is someone strange to your thoughts. It is this moment when you start to explore your depth, it is this time when you start to think rather than act, it is this time when you know that the person you were is not anymore the person you are now, it is only this moment when your thought are at their most unpleasant state and your world is new to you.
Everything around you whether it is the color of the sky, the smell of roses, the dance of a perfect song, the whisper of the music, the eternity of silence, the mist of emotions and everything that you were not able to observe before comes to your senses. You start believing in things, you start seeing things, you become a child and then you become an aged man. You simply become cold music.
I have seen and understood many lost souls. Some were strong enough to survive the battle so that they could rise and shine, so that they could be strong enough to admit that they lost badly and that they have what is called experience, so that they could win what is coming along their way. Others were so week that they could not survive the whisper of words, they were sublime to a change, they were like the fallen flesh of innocent kind, they were weak and sour, they needed reasons to quit and so they did.
I admire those who have the strength to understand the notions of despair. I follow the footsteps of learners and not the learned ones. I don't resist ceasing the irony of wild thoughts and moving on with the freedom of knowledge.

Oceans are so blue and I always had the vision of the color of the sky over it to be so grey that it could make the shine of the sun imaginary. There is a saying by Alexander pope, he once said, "How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;".

Do we always learn and do we always hollow from inside. How deep is really the blameless vestal's lot? Are they surprisingly shallow? Are they grounded from our visions?

We are all weak. Even a bird with the strongest wings is weak, when it comes back to the ground; it tends to forget what the purpose of flying is for! Perhaps its freedom and perhaps its misery of happiness and a surprise of tiredness that only gives it a feeling of life for as long as it is lived becomes a vivid thought and a dark dream.

I once heard someone say this "live for the moment but plan for the future", but sometimes the oceans never seem to be so blue and the sky don't often always get to be grey. Sometimes the sun shines like it never did before. It's a new day and it's meant for a change.

Love is not a feeling, it is ability. Love has many definitions, it has so many meanings. Love is never in anger, love is not resentful or boastful, and love is not selfish, love is never jealous, it is not in despair. Love is sacrifice, love is patient, love has hope, love has beliefs, love has no rules, love is kind and generous, and love is instant. Love is like faith; it is like a tree of faith which takes time to grow its roots.
Love follows admiration, respect, kindness, humbleness. Love is god and it's not weak, weak are its followers. Love is not blind; blind are the ones who love. Love has no wings but it sure give wings to the one who love.