Random

159.

A professor at the University of Edinburgh recently coined the term Li-Fi, which stands for light fidelity. This is the innovative idea: aiming to replace radio frequency signals, there would be wireless data communicating from every light.

I wonder, by every light, if that also meant the smile in your charming laugh.

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158.

So much colour to perceive despite its many shades of monochrome in this world. This grin pulling against his will, a billboard commanding attention. 

What is it about her that makes it so different? The store and its array of flowers. Which would be the best for the three words he could barely dare to think of. Pace around, a fool chasing his own tail or a mouse attempting to snatch the trap’s cheese?

I like bravery in a boy, are the words once heard, and with a thudding heart he cannot help but to feel that he can live up to that praise.

Style the hair, wipe the spectacles, don the cotton shirt, choose the bouquet — how much more would be required to say?

154.

I remember being told that I’ll have a gift from that day onward, but know not what it’ll contain for years more.

Can it be folded? Is it fragile, does it come in pairs? Can it be seen or is it like the warmth you feel by a fireplace. Is it heavy, will it find strength to float in the throes of desperation? If I try to unpick it, will I find it empty.

How am I to decipher this item? Two years ago I thought of it to be mercy, but it would seem that 2018 tells me otherwise.

Let’s count in reverse, from ten to zero.

Know that this gift, be it revealed or not, should be used for His glory.

152.

The best stories happen in the midst of rain. Rain became a cliché overused, but these things come about for a reason.

Here’s mine.

Water droplets, they ran over everything. Steel railings, metallic floors, soaked soles. Looked up and saw unending grey clouds, the goal of reaching the parking lot feeling a tad too far. There was water enough to drown the city.

Despite being clad thinly, run I was surely going to as there was no other option. Mental countdown, when a voice interrupted it.

“Don’t,” he said.

Thus met a confused one with an amused boy. Pulled up an umbrella, mighty weapon against the inclement weather.

“Let’s go,” his smile whispered. Stray words found their way, yet we knew not of each other’s identity. He vanished afterward, never to be seen again.

He remains a stranger that I will not forget.

Rain, it reminds me of him.

148.

Little people have lives larger than their bodies can contain.

That warm glow, a space not many can hold for long. A smile that varies, expression evident at every turn of the clock.

Small is powerful, they claim, and I say it’s true still. Just a tiny fist having it raised commands much attention. This one curled by the bedside is a sight sweeter than one can expect in the dark of night. When reasoned with, tears will move even the stoniest of hearts.

Little people with a touch of magic, I hope you grow up knowing there’s more than games to play all day long. Be it pain or joy, each moment will carve the shadows sewed to the bottom of feet at eventide. This be the unspoken question feared: will the hand holding the older’s fade away, or clutch tighter?

We already know: energy bundled within is never destroyed or lost, but merely transformed. And so, where will your spark go forth in this vast world?

Yet hush now, despite these musings it’s time to sleep, wide-eyed child.

Let tomorrow slip in while you lay in bed.

145.

They refer to it as the call of the void.

It is the feeling that slips in while standing at the edge of a cliff, or driving a car. There goes the mind that wonders, what if this body stumbles over a loose root, what happens if the foot brake is faulty in its functioning. What if one day, standing by the tarmac pavement, there is a crazed vehicle steering dangerous and there is no want to move aside.

There is no desire to let go of life itself, yet the hand is not clutched tight to save it as well. The emptiness that the darkness of nothing tries to fill. Continue running, this mind.

What if the glass walkway shatters at the act of the maniac. How long will one fall?

Hold a knife innocent chopping the onions, when it could be elsewhere far more sinister.

So many ways to go, but only one determines the end.

Everyone bleeds in red.

137.

You remind me of the ocean.

Always ready, quick on your feet, scurrying up the way waves dabble with the beach sand. Deep in thoughts, abundant in your affection, beauty in the glistening light of the sun.

You remind me of the ocean.

Turning cold and somber, sporadically tempestuous. Muted expression, currents unruly, creatures of the moon stalking this salted space.

You remind me of the ocean.

It’s you I’m hopelessly fascinated of.

133.

My favourite memory might not even exist in your head.

A smile small and nearly impudent, the peculiar pinch of eyes while thinking deeply.

Slow gentle clap of hands when things go well.

Tremor of the ground turning into courageous steps.

This yell, childlike brimming delight, when it comes to the matters you care best.

I wonder, I truly wonder if we can ever know all of ourselves, if we are fragmented stardust particles gleaming in lives other than our own.

So maybe I am your mirror just as you are mine.

And oh, how I desire that you will continue to shine a brilliant bright.