The Move

I’ve moved too many times than I would care to. Just so I could have a roof over my head. Leaving everything I’ve grown attached to. Forgetting my side of the bed, where to turn on the light and having my routines scattered like dust in the wind. Permanent goodbyes to a place of solitude, knowing I will never go back and if I did, it would never be that place, my place anymore.

Would you even want to go back? I’ve asked myself. It’s hard to pack your stuffs into heavy bin bags up and down staircases till your feet are sore, but it’s even harder to turn back.

How faintly the memories of my first move surface. Ripples of excitement and nervousness coarsed through me. It was my first time in Hungary, far from home which meant I was grown—-or so I thought. How I look back at those years of brooding naivety. The era before my innocence cherry popped. I got older, moved on to…whatever older people do.

Today as I pack yet another bin bag, off yet another light and return yet another key to a place I called home for months. I’m reminded that home is not a place, and to turn back would mean embracing a myth of ritual, ignoring the lighthouse that beckons me to sail onward to wherever home may be.

Art has to be

Humanity believes

that art has to be beautiful

like a Hummingbird basking under the sun

and art has to be unique

like meteorites dissecting the sky in brillant shades

art has to be pure

like amethyst re-crystallised in an open furnace

art has to be in Galleries

like the cherubic oil on canvas in the louvre

art has to be worth millions of pounds

like a wedding ring made from dinosaur’s fossil

and art has be created by genius

like Yiruma on his Compose of “River flow in you”

I believe

that the source of art is most impure .

It is dirty

It is unbecoming

and it could be worth nothing

but most of all, I believe

true art is a journey to enlightenment

It summarisizes a story that is told

through the eyes of one person,

it’s creator.

Smile a little because, you’re art.

Keeper of Peace

I’m like a daisy in a pond

nourished on all sides by an ever-flowing waterfall

feet rooted between the vegetation

unmoved neither by smallest algae nor the largest predatory

Troubled water silenced by peace, piece by piece

the air is densely saturated with the truth

the pollens on my skin are like an armor of righteousness

and faith is the music I swim to

I am like a plush bear on a playground

with one button eye, the other digesting inside a kid’s belly somewhere

still the smile on my face is in-erasable

when I think of the shield of the holy spirit i yield

you see this world outside is harsher still

like med school, it’s never easy

but we’re still fighting

because of a father who polishes my replaced button

and it is so, we’re still and waiting

praying for grace and strength with each waking breath

The prints we made yesterday guides into tomorrow

enlightening our journey into sanctuary of the keeper of peace