What are You Really?

I found it a pity.
You say you’re a blacksmith but never forge any iron or steel.
You say you’re a merchant but never open up your stall.
You say you’re a fisherman but never sail.

What are you really?
You’re just a hollow picking up whatever empty shells you find to hide.
You’re just a transparency matching up with whatever colors you embrace.
You’re just an empty word praying for meaning.

What am I really?
The abandoned forge.
The unopened stall.
The sinking boat.

Thousands of iron
Thousands of gold.
Thousands of fish.
What are we really?

---

Photo by Benjaminrobyn Jespersen.

It’s Not That Easily to Build

Most of the time, it’s tiring just being in the same room with him. Hearing him talk. Watching him moving around. Witnessing his eventful day. The misunderstanding also happens too frequent. Here and there. Funny to painful. Now they always manage to find a way to laugh it off or talk it out, but it was so frustrating for the two of them back then. It gave them a whole night or more of pondering what they’d said and done to each other. The misunderstanding was mostly fixed from the constant effort of each person never stop learning about the other. Back and forth. Understanding and forgiving. Now that they know each other better than the back of their own hands, the act of dropping ego happens naturally.

NOTE:

Just another small excerpt of my current work. The never-ending work. Gotta love the journey.

I am

I am a series of words
Hold no soul.
Grip on self.
Staggered.

I am a whirlwind of emotions.
Born from turbulence.
Hold no core.
Destructive.

I am a series of thoughts.
Where’s the escape?
Where’s the embrace?
Tell me.

I am a series of words.
Misinterpreted.
Lost its value.
A history.

I am a gaping hole.
Throbbing.
Hollow.
Heal me.

---

Beautiful photo by Craig Ren.

The Young Lady in The Train, The Young Man on The Platform

The heavy feelings from earlier are still there, floating around the two of them. The young lady in the train, the young man on the platform. The young man awaits with puzzled look as the girl turns to him. Just a few seconds before the door slams shut.

“Aren’t you going to get a girlfriend like him?” she asks.

Taken aback from the question, his eyes wide awake. A short silence fills in as he thinks deep into her eyes in solemn stare.

“I don’t fall in love that easily,” he answers eventually, smiling in a way as if he’s laughing at none other but himself.

She nods to his answer and the door slams shut. They both stare at each other until the train starts to move, separating them yet again one possibility away.

NOTE:

I’m quoting this because it’s taken from my current work. I personally love this scene so I tried to translate it into English. Sounds meh, but why not?

---

Beautiful photo by Ferran Fusalba Roselló. (cropped by me)