BLANQUE...

is it possible to think and yet,
there’s nothing that the mind could grasp?
is it possible to say “forget it...”
and yet the mind says otherwise…
and the heart clings to that fleeting feeling,
fearing that it would be gone forever…
in the abyss of oblivion...
is it possible to feel pain,
and yet linger in it,
dwelling in the afterthought,
that if it would be gone,
life is a miserable mess that is bereft of meaning...,
some raised their brows at such masochistic thought,
but could someone blame a heart that lives in such misery?
And yet continues to beat?
how would one compare such flamboyant joy,
and yet deadly and contrived…
pretending to its heart content,
that the zombie within,
is breathing...moving…feeling…
but when night falls, there’s no sky to look up to…
only the pale bland ceiling staring back at those empty eyes…
no tears…the duct is dry…,
the piercing sound of laughter,fills the air…remember!
the joy is contrived,believing that the lie is real…

the life you live is of your choice,
the monastic glared, but the hedonist laughed...
who then has real joy…,
who then has contrived laughter…
is a life of misery better than one with the pretense of happiness..?
pain is the resource of a life truly lived…
and a heart that truly beats…
the wound inflicted to the heart,
could not stop it from breathing…
but the heart immersed in the pretense of laughter,
forgets the meaning of pain…
the bitterness of unfulfilled promises…
the loneliness of being empty within…

why recall the past, when it only brings pain..?
is it not to relive it..?
so that you will know your heart still beats...
but the longing is there…that perhaps,
it will change,and this time it would be better…
but then the past is… the past,
and reliving it for the moment,
will not create a better tomorrow,
because the tomorrow that was longed for,
happened yesterday…is this not pretense?
or is it because you want to linger in the pain that it brings,
so that the heart that begins to be numbed and deadened,
will continue to beat…
and the longing that the reality of joy,
is after all not a mendacity and a farce…

how then is life to be lived…?
should it be full of laughter…?
and be gradually deadened,
by the fear that the laughter,
would soon end because it is ephemeral...
or should it be lived in the innermost sanctum of your soul,
dwelling in the misery of painful mementos of the past…
at the same time,
content with the thought that sooner,
things will change…
and that the joy that had been absent for years,
will be there,with open arms to hug you and clothed your body with warmth…

what was it? how does warm feels?
you have forgotten it..?
for years, you have been accustomed..
to the pavement coldness of being alone...
would it be possible to still find it..?
this joy that they said life would bring?

how audacious can your heart get…but it is!
it is the very essence of living...
it is the only way for you to know that you are living…
when the longings of your heart will be wrecked,
smashed to pieces,
and then you will know,
just like the clown on a walking stilt,
pretending to be above the boisterous crowd…
when his walking stilts broke and great was his fall,
then reality sets in, that it was just for a show…

the heart should go on beating,
despite the pain,
despite the bruises and wounds of unfulfilled longings…
that ran assymptotic to its purported destiny...
it is not anymore contrived,
when the pain is there and you linger in it,
and you feel every second...
the excruciating stab in the innermost recesses of your soul…