I return with curiosity,

It, sitting heavily on my chest.

I come with a new found hope.

Yet, somehow, I see no manifested form.

Then...

What is there?

Where are the lines and the curves,

That represent my being?

The shadows and light that fuel my soul and its wanting?

Where are they?

The words that I relied so heavily to imprint paper,

Disappears like ink fading under the sun.

What is there

Left in my heart and body made of broken pieces.

I ask.

What is there?

#midnight #freewrite #randomthoughts

What I really wanted to ask was, where will we be next after we leave?

Will we just cease to exist when our spirits leave our bodies?

Or is there life after death?

When we're married and we say our vows,

I don't want it to be "to have and to hold till death do us part",

But "to have and to hold for all eternity".

What say you?

Eternal life is something I believe in.

If you don't then... Let's forget this conversation.

But if it's true,

What I really wanted to ask was, will you wait for me while you're up there?

♢

Memories do not completely fade.

After death,

After separation,

We’ll intertwine;

With hands held tightly together.

We’ll live through decades,

Centuries,

Aeons.

Our ties cannot be undone.

And so are the emotions,

That have left you eternally scarred.

♢

[This is an introductory chapter for the first part of the book I am currently writing.]

Nothing scares an emerging author like that of the blank page that is before you. Whether it be digitally on the computer screen, with your word document enlarged with nothing but the input cursor blinking in anticipation; or the inkless white paper that patiently waits under the pen or pencil you bought just for the very purpose of writing.

I am but a person with imaginations running wild, but the pen does not seem to be appropriate enough for the wonders in my mind, nor the keyboard that invitingly clatters when I place my fingers on them.

Gibberish, I tell you. That is all that comes when the plastic of my black keyboard clatters when I type, the strokes of my favourite gel pen that graces the sheets, all produce gibberish.

What’s worse is the blank that comes to the mind. It’s the most terrifying occurrence to a person whose liveliness is dependent on the madness that erupts in his or her realms in their heads.

But.

With that blank, I have come to many discoveries.

The gibberish are but warm ups for greater madness to emerge.

#blank #blurps