The sound of silence prevails.

Sharp eyes so wide awake on the look for prey;

Shivering frail body is unsure to make it through the night.

Feet keep moving though mixed emotions are tangled in distress.

Mind is bothered by thoughts of ghost and the unknown.

Hands tucked tight in the cold, darkest night.

Not all gifts can be wrapped;
For there are blessings indisguised.
For there are goodness in this world
Not visible to the naked eyes.

Tsk, tsk, tsk–
He really has a thing for numbers,
I tell you.

Alongside
his weight and body mass index, length and width;
he eavesdrops his heart rate.

He squeezes ’til he sneezes
in dire attempt
to put his blood on a scale.

He even segregates white to red,
as if they’re Russia and U.S.
in conflict with one another.

He counts calories and sugar
without using spoon nor cups,
like as if FDA requires his nutritional label.

So what’s next, man? Man, oh man!
Perhaps he’s torn between pores and hairs–and which one
poses as his greatest, and most meaningful numerical challenge.

Though uneven,
they travel in a steady phase.
Although the long seems more agile than the shorter,
It never matters
if they overlap one another.

Hence, even if the sun is shining bright;
Notwithstanding if the moon is too pale,
in track they stay
always working night and day.

Man thought
He can use this
to his advantage.

But amid knowledge and skills;
Given his vigor and technology,
Man can’t keep up with time
and fails.

Simply because,
the hands of clock are ever empty;
but Man always carry more than his hands can take . . .

. . . ever ensuring
he has everything
and nothing to worry,
he carries them all
no matter how trivial and crazy.

Note that this is not a mystery story
of a clock always up and too early;
but a classic on gravity
of a man ever late
and sorry.

A fading symphony
once playing
before the brightest stars,

A falling floret
once blooming
from million miles afar,

A dying wick
once flickering
in the darkest nights,

A dripping crimson
once flowing
as vector of life and dreams,

Now sinking fragments of yesterday
unto six-feet down under a lake of broken vows
for a thousand winters.

(Courtesy of YouTube)

youtube/’Broken Vow’