A Room for Normalcy

Every day, a little normalcy of silence is needed. You can sip a hot cup of coffee or tea, sitting on your porch or a favorite solitude place, reading a book or magazine, as you inhale and exhale the breezy fresh air in and out of your lungs, watching the sunrise or sunset, which the solace should give you relief in your chest.

Writing is like inhaling and exhaling air while watching the sun descend into the nightfall, or the shy moon slowly brightening the open blue sky while dancing with the shooting stars across the galaxy.

I write to soothe my sanity and empty the memory vault of insanity. The reason being, my mind is as sharp as a blade that works constantly throughout the day without any rest, which means my fight is with myself, how subconsciously furry words wage wars against me, wanting to roam and dance, flattening their flaming wings; when their rages comes cascading and pouring down like rainfall, my pen gives in and obliges their request, then lets them out of the door so they can roam or dance freely in daylights not remain caged in the pits of darkness inside my skull.

When the flood door of hell finally opens, they’d fly away freely, because their carnal hunger is fully satisfied, therefore, they’re forced to leave me alone to my own solace, so that I can softly and easily breathe in and out the fresh air.