The Light Within

It’s not about the absence of light; or the darkness anymore… Sometimes, it’s all about the capacity of your own will to see the light that’s not even there at all.

January 28, 2017 • 10:44am

It’s not about the absence of light; or the darkness anymore… Sometimes, it’s all about the capacity of your own will to see the light that’s not even there at all. Not the ability nor capability to witness. But your own willingness to do so. Your willingness to see. Your mere decision to be provided. To see what’s invisible to the naked eye; and what’s beyond the reach of your eyesight. It is seen only by your own will; or rather, felt. That only light that’s always been inside of you.

In the end… it becomes our own decision to see. It becomes about our will to go past the darkness… or even beyond our dimmed vision.

I Was Here

And this is my predicament. I am inadequate, and I have a heart that never wants to stop…. I was lost; but I was here.

December 3, 2016 • 9:37pm

But I was inadequate. 

Incomplete. Shattered, even. There’s not just some missing part of me that’s needed to be fixed. Which I have to find and search for; to look around, grope the floor… and reach for it. I’m freaking broken and ruined. I am a mere remains of fragments, and remnants…and every shredded parts of me, that had been torn away from my old self, due to my palpable disintegration. Of my falling apart; of my collapsing… If I didn’t know better I’d think, and I’d say, I was gone. Already gone. Completely gone. Absolutely gone.

But I was here.

And living only with the tiny bits that was left of me with some strings, trying to hold it back together… And with the merely light beating of a heart that has been ripped out; stomped on, and put back again. A heart that has been exhausted, drained, used up… and all the other synonymous of being empty there is. A heart that never stops pumping; even when it’s bruised, wounded, and scarred. Even when there are still some remaining scraps of debris from the aftermath of the catastrophe… still settling on its every frail parts. Even when the thorn lingers. Even after the blood had ran wild from the cuts; flowed out on the skin… Even after the blood has dried up and the scabs had wear off. It’s still there. Gasping for air; panting for oxygen.

It stayed there. Even after everything. Even after the final blow, and the obliteration took place. It’s still there, even when the incessant chaos went downhill. It’s still there, even when the mind always tried to stop and end its beating. It stays there, even when the sanity is fiddling away… and the mind is lost. It stays still, even when the mind had disappeared; and totally gone. It beats still even when the hopes are dead; and life had stopped. It remains still, even when the existence is overpowered by madness… and all is invaded by numbness.

Oh, God. It’s unstoppable.

It doesn’t care whether I already want it to stop and get some rest. It keeps beating, and beating…and beating. And the mere sound of it is perhaps what irks me the most, I suppose. It sounded too little, and yet had the greatest impact even against the chaotic sound of my mind. That no matter how much I listen and agree to my very own mind, it just keeps surfacing no matter what. It persists. It beats still. It beats. Beats everything.

And this is my predicament. I had a docile mind that’s willing to give in anytime I want. A chaotic mind that was always so lost, but still a smart companion. And I had this heart that breathes for survival. No matter what…

A heart that never leaves me even when my mind often does.

I was inadequate and I have lost all the hope to be ever become complete again. I’ve lost it all… –the hope, the chance, that I would perhaps feel whole again someday…

I want for this maladay to stop; I want this dearth to end… But I can never stop this thing in my chest that pumps blood on veins that carries oxygen. An absolute danger; my greatest foe.

That’s the thing about me. I am inadequate, and I have a heart that never wants to stop.

I was lost; and I was here.

Promise of Forever

We often tend to suffer from our own little delusion that forever really does exist in this ever-changing world. Where nothing is certain… But please, forever is a myth; not a commodity.

November 30, 2016 · 6:18pm

We often tend to suffer from our own little delusion that forever really does exist in this ever-changing world. Where nothing is certain; and where everything seems fleeting… that even our own breathes are temporary. If only we spend much time, and effort, and work hard to achieve it.

But please, forever is a myth; not a commodity.

Nydel M.

Indifference and Madness

They say that we have our own volition… but I could not believe them; I do not choose to think, but I cannot escape these thoughts.

November 28, 2016 · 10:16pm

I have this thing in mind… a very chaotic notion; perhaps some kind of oppression… that had been going on in my mind lately. Or shall I say, — every now and then. And it’d since then been aggravating me a lot, but I couldn’t quite figure out what it is; nor what to do about it. 

My thoughts are a mess. And I am a disaster. I subconsciously do things I know I wouldn’t really do on purpose. They say that we have our own volition… but I could not believe them; I do not choose to think, but I cannot escape these thoughts. I had given up hope on everything; I couldn’t care less whatever happens. I do not care about anything. At all. I could probably go past these torment and out of such predicament without shedding a tear from the eye; without even a single cringe. I wasn’t stranger to pain, but I wasn’t numb, either. Or so I thought; because I know I shouldn’t. I am indifferent and I wasn’t supposed to be. I am human and was supposed to feel. Because if I don’t, what would be the point of being alive, then? 

But still, I could screw the world over, and shut people out without looking back and feeling a thing. Not even a guilt. I felt nothing. But… how come? I want nothing, feel nothing. I am nothing. How could I? I am dangerously empty. Hollow, even. I am the void that wraps up my very own.

Perhaps this was indifference.

Maybe I was only stoic because I am no stranger to all this; it’s not at all new to me. It couldn’t surprise me more… I’m so used to all these. –so sick and fed up. I’ve grown jaded enough already to still give a damn. These no longer bother me,– in any way. Not even a little. I can never be more affected; let alone upset. That despite all the unpredictability of life… I still know what’s going to happen in the end. It always goes down to one thing. That exact same thing.

And I still do not know… whatever was the causation of these improbable shambles of my own thoughts… Or whether it was only a state of happenstance; a chance. But knowing so would never really do, either. And knowing would be the end of me. Half the time… I was usually presented by the answers I do not want to know; the truths I do not seek. And maybe that’s the reason why I’m such a mess. I’m constantly being trapped in my very own chaotic thoughts like I always did.

But I cannot understand if this was just me, merely jaded. Or I, in the face of indifference. But I am both; the life proved me so. And it remains indefinite whether or not I just really know life well enough, and accepted that everything is passing through. That we are all just passing through… Or maybe things just stopped mattering so much. Because it turned out to be the norm, and nothing matters anymore…

And I’ve settled in my own chasm; and have forgotten how to live… Because doing so would never really make any difference. I was absolutely jaded to the point that I couldn’t even recognize my very own existence and what would I ever live for. 

There is nothing. There is nothing here for me. I merely exist… that is all; nothing more. And perhaps, saying so would give life a reason to get me back my sanity. A little mercy, maybe? But no, not really. Being obliterated was no reason to take away this existential madness. –The life might say.

Right Time

We shall meet again, some time. When the wounds are healed; and when the smiles are real. And maybe when life is a little bit of kinder, and nothing is torn…

November 15, 2016 · 11:44pm

and might I say,

“We shall meet again, some time. When the wounds are healed; and when the smiles are real. And maybe when life is a little bit of kinder, and nothing is torn… Perhaps we shall meet when the sky’s whole again.”

We shall meet, when the time is right again.

Nydel M.

Lowly Moon and Mighty Sun

And I will always be the moon who floats around; and wandering about…

June 10, 2016 • 1:34am

And you’re like the sun,

You shine so brightly up there. You’re so mightily beautiful, and so strong. You light up the whole world; and everyone can see everything because of you. They needed you, and they depend on you. I thought maybe that’s why the earth is so glad just sticking around with you.

And I’m just like the moon,

so far and so lone. I don’t shine as brightly as you do, every. single. day. I can only light up a little at night,– just every once in a while. I’m not as powerful as you, the light I emit is just enough for me to shine — for them to see me. But not enough to make them see everything else. I can’t light up the earth; I can only shine in darkness… and not everyone can notice me and be aware that I’m also there. When I shine, I can only make the sky light up ever so lightly, but not the whole world. I can’t make everyone look up to me even if I try to banish every star on my way just so it’d be time for me to stand tall. So it is just me that they can see. I can’t make a day for anyone, like the way they know their day starts when they finally see you. I would show up sometimes; and not everyone would care, and not everyone would even know I was actually there. Not like you, when they see the bright light outside,– they’d know you’re there; when the day starts, they know you’re there. You are always there. There’s no day you won’t show up, because if you don’t, they’d look for you and wait for you to smile again. There’s no day without you. You are so warm and magnanimous… you always warm them up. You seem so selfless. You are so fulsome and so great in every single way. That is how they feel you. They can see you and they can feel you. That’s the way they do.

I’m not like you. I can only be seen, but I can never make them feel anything. I can only be visible; I can’t come up to their senses. I’m present only to the naked eye. I am so cold and merely isolated; I have no power to warm them up. I can do nothing for them. While you are made up of fire that’s burning inside and out. Your soul is blazing with passion and firing up with love. While I’m just made up of stale cold air that lives in my own utter existence; a mere presence. A plain depth that contains nothing but emptiness inside. An all-out being that nothing comes alive but a grim and distant atmosphere. A vast space of void — the same empty space that wraps up my vacant place of nothingness..

And you’re enormously magnificent and excellent in everyday; in every way. You do not fail anyone; nothing can defy you. Whilst I am just a momentary event that happens from time to time. An absolute happenstance. I can only stay for a while, I don’t even last a whole time. I come and go, I can’t stay so long. I’m just nothing, but a being that’s going around here, coming from outta nowhere; going to anywhere… Just floating around, and wandering, and… fading. Here and there. While you light up the great big world with you, and the world is revolving around you…

You can satisfy the whole world by just simply existing. The earth is thankful to you because you are you… The earth is grateful because you are just there…not going anywhere.

Because you exist. 

You shine in the big blue skies… You stand tall up there; you shine with them. And it isn’t just you, but also because of you, the skies and the clouds can also be seen because you’re there. You are the reason. You have always been the reason, why everyone has a day; why everyone has a life. You shine even when everything around you shines, too. You shine even when everything is bright. You always, — always stood out. Because you’re the one who shines the brightest. Your light is what shines the most. I’m not like you. I can only shine in the dark. Without the darkness, I won’t stand out; I won’t even be seen. I cannot shine on my own. I can’t light myself up. Without the darkness, I can’t show up; they wouldn’t see me. That is how I am so dependent to the dark, like the way everything else depends on you. 

I depend on it; they depend on you.

They can’t go on without you; and you’re there for them. Always. And here I am, almost not needed. Uncalled for. Just a momentous happening that needed to pass through sometime… in times..

No air. No warmth. Nothing but a pure emptiness and a lingering solitude.

I can’t shine on my own light..
I always need the darkness with me; here beside me.

And I guess I can never shine as bright like you. As strongly as you do; I’m not like you, You’re the only mighty sun and no one can do things like you do. But I am not you..

And I can never be you.

A Wish for a Brand New Year

Dear 2017,

Please be good to me.

December 28, 2016 • 11:17pm

Dear 2017,

Please be good to me.


A wish for a good Life.

Here’s to another year of Hope, and Trust, and Dreams. Here’s to another year of Patience, and Kindness, and Forgiveness. Here’s to another year of doing things, making things, and creating things.

Here’s to everything I’ve never done last year. Here’s to possibility and less of doubts. Less procrastination, frustration, and depression.

Here is to everything

Welcoming old new things. Expecting that, yes, — life might suck, but it can also be good…somehow. We should never let ourselves held upon a box…once again. Here’s to letting go. And here’s to moving on. Here’s to never giving up for yet another year. You’re making it to how many years already…alright, keep it up! We must never surrender. Holding on? We must do it again… At least, to — Hope. We should never let ourselves be defeated by our own demons. We are making into years, and years…and years. My friends, we are doing good. Even if we don’t notice it more often…we’d find it in some of our lessons, realizations; and of course, in our writings.

The moment that we figure out what we’re trying to understand; to express what we’re trying to say.. We must know, somehow… that we are making sense out of this…ache. We write in order to understand ourselves; to understand this, — this life. The life that was given to us. We’re trying to make sense of something…and everything; or anything. Just about anything at all, just so it wouldn’t be just this; just pain. It must be something else. That…we are somehow feeling this way because we can grow something out of this; or at least, we can grow from this. So that we could grow; not taller, not prettier, not even fairer. But just grow. And to come out stronger, wiser; and kinder than ever before.

Perhaps this was a learning zone to all of us… Depression? Yes. Perhaps we could at least say goodbye to it…for now. — I wish forever. Perhaps we could leave this learning room inside of us and come out freer than ever. Better than ever. Finer than ever. Perhaps we don’t really need a big, bold word for it. But just as simple as a little better, and a little bit free — were seems to be just fine.

Here’s to another year of poetry. 

Here’s to another year of beating life, beating fate, and beating pain by making more of our poetry. Out of our very own pain given to us by Life.

Here’s to another year of success.

Success of making out into yet another year.

-Another year of this precious Life.