Reaching for the glass of life

Our choices are worth gold,
In order to rise, one must be bold,
Where our fears have no hold,
Of what has been told.

Stand up and make the decision.

Because situations always change,
So we must listen carefully,
Or else we may miss the symphony,
This is the music of our life.

Don’t break the tune.
-Tune of life.


When I look at what I’ve written in the past, I realize the pages stretch beyond something so vast, even my patience to read would be tested to read it all, which reflects on how much time I’ve actually spent writing these articles. My total blogs stretch to the number of four, one I’ve retired, two which are private, and this one, my public one. In total I’ve written about 71 posts including this one. Each of the articles on this one is at least a thousand words long or longer, and thinking back, I wrote nearly as long or longer for each article in my other blogs, starting with my very first entry on the 12th of May 2004, entitled Heart of dreaming. This is the very first poem that I posted on a blog.

A crack of a knuckle,
The sea breeze blowing against my face,
I look across the vast blue ocean,
I behold a vision,
A dream of dreams,
I would weave the tapestry of my life,
Creating my own destiny,
Despite living in a world that is unjust,
Where its hard for us to trust,
Where we are borne of lust,
We turned to rust,
And then to dust.

The poem holds no title, because back then I never titled the poems in the blogs, it was later on in my blogging that I added the titles. The very last poem I wrote on that blog was titled funeral.

As I heard the music of the funeral band,
I reached out for her hand,
only to stumble and be lost.
As the first drop came,
an endless pour,
caught in a world of endless doors,
I began to cry, and then a hand grasped mine.

I was out of my daze,
and I was met with many a gaze,
I heard the speech of praise,
from a priest of heavenly grace,
The hearts had been bled,
The tears were shed,
At the end of everything said,
I said my goodbye as I cried in my bed.
-funeral

It is perhaps the most fitting poem to write for a final blog post, it was a time when I there were many changes in my life, but I had written that poem long before I posted it, it is dedicated to an old friend of mine who died when he was young, at the age of 15, someone who had so much going for him. I salute to the lost. I had stopped writing articles for more than a half a year after that blog till I started a new blog to continue my writings, eventually I started this blog which leads up till this latest post.

It has been four years since I began blogging, looking back at my old posts, I can see the evolution of my writing styles. For these 71 posts including this one, each had a poem or more, which made me wonder how I wrote all those poems, to me I find it quite a large number, of which I realize I can no longer remember all of them by heart due to number I have written. It makes me ask the question whether these poems are really that special, if I have written so many.

As I think harder about this issue, I reflect on how I felt when I wrote this poems, and for most I could frankly say I wrote them from pure inspiration using my emotions and reflections of the past, only a few were a little forced, during the times I was in a rut, sometimes its just so hard to write a poem when there is no inspiration.

And for the times when I could write often, it was because I had a muse, which provided so much inspiration, it was often breath taking, causing my mind to dance in words in an ocean of emotions that made me feel incredible, it was at those moments where I enjoyed writing most. I look forward to finding a new muse, to write in such a manner again. I’d say one of the greatest joys in my life is working with a muse, who influences my poetry greatly, and to a certain extent the novels I write. I don’t write novels as much as I used to, but I do intend to find the time to continue writing again.

Right now, I am more focused on achieving my dream which is so real and within in my grasp, like the glass of life that is full of richness. The past week has been especially good in which I achieved what I wanted, which was having the perfect performance for the week. I’d have to attribute part of the reason why I had even more focus during the week was because of the day before.

I had walked from my house to botanic gardens to sit for an hour by the pond where a pair of black swans were, to read a new book I bought, entitled “The monk who sold his Ferrari” Although I only read for an hour and have yet to finish the book, I found it meaningful and insightful which gave me a lot of insight and determination. I’d elaborate more, but perhaps until I’ve finished reading it, I shall not talk more about it. I look forward to going down to pond again and reading tomorrow. An hour a week, makes a big difference to me, away from my home, away from everything, no responsibility, just a half an hour walk there, an hour of reading by a pond drinking light coke and just taking in the beautiful scenery, and of course walking back. I’d say it is something I’d look forward to doing every week, just me, a book and drink by the pond, alone to read and reflect, and my feet and sandals to take me there and back.

It’s in these activities, where I contemplate the most, which I can refocus my energy, after a week of having to work with people regularly, coming up with new ideas, researching and presenting daily, just two hours of personal time where no one could disturb me, where I was free from stress, made a difference to my week. Perhaps I’d recommend it to others, but not everyone would find it fun walking in the afternoon sun, let alone reading. One thing I know, it is for me, and it makes a difference to me.

I wonder if I could share these moments with someone, and whether it would be different. Perhaps a whole different experience, and if it was to be shared, it should be no more than one person, I’m the type who only likes the company of one person and no more, where I can give my full attention and focus to that person, but even then, I’d say it would spoil the whole significance of taking that time aside, because that time aside has to have absolutely no stress whatsoever, because when I’m totally alone, no one to interact with, no one else to consider but myself for that point of time. I’d say it’s something that I don’t get often enough. A true reprieve. The time to really appreciate the glass of life I’m holding.


The thoughts tear past the skin,
From tongue to the ears,
Where it breaks through walls,
Which causes the tears to fall.

Remember, remember the words of surrender.

Of the exchange,
The reason,
And what was fought.

Remember, remember what it brought.
-The rhyme of reason.