Sounds great, right? Revolutionary, isn’t it? A Spartan chant? A warrior’s anthem? A war is coming? It is obvious. And the battle line has been drawn. Even we all know the location!!!

Youths are awake. Youths are setting the motion. You attend any event, and it fills up the room. “Get your PVC! Get your PVC!” At school, at various gatherings, you go online, on any social media platform, and before the end of the day, you see the same statement a few times before you log off.

I admire the enthusiasm, morale, and exuberance about the upcoming election. Even I love it. The spirit. Everyone buys into it. We have all seen enough. We have seen enough, and It is enough

Yet, it is like everyone is not asking the right question, and I am curious to know.

Get your PVC... to what?

To vote? To cast them out?

Yes. Correct.

With how it has been repeated everywhere, and with how it has become a warrior’s chant or a war anthem, I believe the question of who are we voting in, and who are we voting out? is not being asked enough.

The orientation is scattered, and it is not in tune with the regurgitation of the anthem.

Who is voting for whom? Is not been asked enough.

We could say and answer “common sense should be applied”

True.

And No, they are not dumb. They see it too. They know what is right.

The biggest mistake is assuming that everyone getting a PVC knows what is right or is in the same battle as you.

Have you seen a lot of people with knowledge, yet doesn’t move? They know, but they cannot act. They are bound by mediocrity, by shallow treatment. Some sort of humiliation kink.

This is where we are.

Years of not getting one’s needs met lead to the internalization that one is unworthy of good things or authenticity, even down to good leadership and governance.

With this negative internalization. We seem to be hiding a particular energy , and the war is near. We only have the card. Just the card. Get it so you can carry it and, perchance, just use it on the D-Day. This chant doesn’t have enough spirit.

Youths are having the conversation among themselves. A friend asks another friend, and he just goes with, “Get your PVC.” The statement sounds more like you need to carry it, or like a means of identification, more than the PVC being the sword or the bow and arrow on the battlefield.

And this is war.

A big war.

Everyone has seen the shege. The youths, the chanters, have witnessed and are currently witnessing how policies are being implemented and executed by the democratic government.

Among these youths are some whom we might have told, or who have told us, to get the sword, and yet they have it blunt. Mind you, they got it sharp, but I think they will actually make it blunt.

By cowardice?

By proximity to power?

Greed?

Instant gratification?

Apathy?

Or the two big brothers, religion and tribalism?

If one is given a sword, and we assume that he or she can wield it without proper orientation or understanding of warfare, we could see that the battle is close to defeat. Anything can happen. He even believes he is not capable or fit to use this sword to set himself free.

We all saw what happened three years ago.

A friend said he is getting a PVC. He is a victim, yet he is about to respect his executioner, or executioners, because they share a common sentiment, or because he is directly benefiting from them, or because some people are about to influence his decision.

The people you think you are fighting for do not even want victory and do not want to be fought for.

This is something I have realized over time about societies. “My own is good, yours is bad” has become the most perverted language everyone speaks now. It is destroying humanity and leaves no room for genuine nuances.

In an environment plagued by the constant idolization of money, regardless of how it is gotten, mediocrity, and its closeness to exposure, we are gradually switching on a TNT, and makes the whole situation blurry, and not winnable.

As sweet as it sounds, and as revolutionary as it appears, especially on the internet and educational settings, majority are on the streets, and those on the streets are quick to whore themselves off.

Should we talk about the thugs? The defeated spirits? The one who feels that because he is close to a particular leader, he is set for life? An escapism? Or someone who lashes out with his borrowed sense of power over others just to feel fulfilled?

Old People

As much as I admire them, I am against them.

And when I say “old people,” I mean 46+.

I simply don’t trust them.

Remember, they have PVCs before we were born.

They are in another world. Their reality is far different from (y)ours.

In fact, I wish those between 18 and 45 could cast their votes on a different day. I want to see something: the fowl bum, because, it is certain, breeze will blow.

I don’t want to say they are directly the problem, but they contribute a lot to everything that is happening.

Right from the beginning, the majority of them, if not all, are the ones contesting, quick and vote too. They have their right to exercise their franchise. I just believe they are fantasy-bonded, right from all the administrations they have witnessed, right from their childhood, their experiences and beliefs.

They just have this particular loyalty that I don’t seem to fathom. With everything that goes on in this country, they are quite oblivious to the fact that they play a major role, most times indirectly, in what the country has become through their actions, inactions, and decisions.

Right from the outset, even now, you’d wonder, maybe they know, maybe they don’t. Maybe they are just defeated.

Amor fati, they say. Some resignation of the spirit.

Yet, I don’t seem to understand their persistent interference in many things.

Politics has become some sort of competition, especially among loyalists and sycophants. A rivalry, not even about democracy.

An absurdism that is unfathomable.

Like a rivalry match.

Chelsea vs Arsenal.

That is how they see it.

“as long as my boss win, or my party wins, or the one who gives me rice, spaghetti or figo win. You will see that gospel is right”. And they sell off their liberation for crumbs.

It is annoying and not encouraging.

Without any reverence for the future, the consequences, or the policies.

Youth + Old People (Enmeshment)

Again, In a society that rewards mediocrity, worships money, dick-sucks, and chases the instant lifestyle, we are not really putting into use, or even thinking about, any stratagem to conquer the enemy or become the hero.

With this enmeshment, we are petting snakes and putting them in cages. Soon enough, by the due minute, the cage just get “discouraged,” and they will come out to bite later on.

Have you been out on the streets?

Have you seen the thugs?

The dying youth, and the dead man with rotten teeth from smoking and sachets, limping through survival, who would do anything to get crumbs from the people in power just to feel the touch of fulfilment from directly benefiting from power. Like some sort of achieving a life purpose. A drifting and taming pleasure.

They will defend their executioners with their lives, while treating their fellow victims as slobs, just to satisfy the passing master that rides horses.

It is deplorable.

They will rig for them, play the religion and tribal cards, then, afterwards, complain about the system and adapt to it.

They dare not fight.

They believe they are not safe enough to fight.

The fight calls for freedom. And freedom demands accountability, responsibility and discipline.

They do not want that.

It is not secure.

It makes them anxious.

They just want their crumbs, their figo, their bag of rice, their spaghetti, their direct contact with power, to worship, to be small, to be minimal, to be managed.

It is appalling.

By the way, get your PVC.

We have a war to fight and a story to write.

We do not dare to remember 💔

the fleeting moments,

sweet everlasting memories,

the good deeds,

thoughtful gatherings,

favours,

good deeds,

luscious past events,

we had in company,

we do not bother to remember.

Growing within us,

brooding,

poor acts we hold on to,

enmity,

malice,

evil inside us

we do not dare to remember!!!

For until,

my fellow,

my tenant do things to me,

things that hurt, we hold firmly to it,

like an infant clinging to it’s mother breast

unfavorable doings, mistakes, hatred boiling within

We don’t dare to remind each other,

again, sweet, sweet,

jolly times we had together,

blissful mirth and happy memories,

but we dare to remember mistakes, blunders

I did to you,

you did to me,

depriving soul for healing

and glue firmly to these bitter deeds

and, perchance, take it, with us, to grave.

2. Mood Swings

This isn’t for me...

This wasn’t like me...

I don’t like this feeling...

This pain wasn’t mine...

I can’t call it an anguish, even an affliction..

I can’t be in love with this sensation...

This wanna get into my poor head...

This watery stuff dripping off my eye...

All because of this heartache..

I’m sobering..

I’m looking for happiness..

But it’s not looking for me...

What am I, now?

What is this, now??

Why was that, now??

My mind needs peace..

My lips need kiss..

My soul need lauds..

My heart need wants all,

things inexplicable,

i do not know

My body feel these kills..

3. about time

about time we move on,

we weren’t meant to be together

we could see it now,

i feel it, you feel it too

or we are trying to evade the reality of it?

now I’m here,

wondering what went wrong.

some things were never meant to be

we have no control over everything

as we embrace each other,

same..

we need to release each other

Now, I keep asking myself?

was it less effort,

or what will be will always be?

It is what it is , they say.

About time, we wrap it up.

feelings do fade,

but memories will stay forever

And I’m glad we made the best of our bond,

even though I sat down reminiscing and writing this

definitely not sadness,

but a different form of pure love.

I feel it, I see it .

It’s like a wave.

well, the final act of love is letting go

and we’d loved each other enough to go separate ways..

untitled ❤️

Drop your heart for me...

Say those words ‘lovely’

How can I live without you in my heart??

She charms me with the tenderness of her heart

I hope our love becomes unquenchable

Beautiful things you have,

my heart feels you..

Yes, you and I...

we can do much more

We can show more love..

We can grow ‘it’ together and stronger

Your happiness means more to me...

Your smiles shines brightest to me...

To me, you’re the world..

Let me hold onto you..

I want another soul in my heart...

Yes you... I want you

Let’s foster the growth of our affection.

Is there anything that will make not to feel my love??.

She makes me feel like anything is possible..

Love me and I will love you..

That’s what’s makes us inseparable.

2. absolutely nothing....❤️❤️

nothing feels better than this

loving you,

having you in my mind

music to my soul,

melody in my heart

nothing feels better than

living life with you,

loving life with you

craving your presence,

your touch

nothing makes me feels better than hearing

your sweet little angelic voice,

relief to my pain,

angel in human body

nothing feels better than us,

nothing feels better than missing you while you are asleep,

nothing feels good than realizing,

you have been a glowing light,

in this gloomy path of life,

I have been sauntering

nothing feels better than seeing you shine brightest like the star in these dark nights - you are exceptional.

3. always and forever ❤️❤️❤️

do you mind if I tell you,

what made me lay awake ,

while the crickets were chirping,

Do you mind if I pour my heart into this piece,

do you know ever since I laid my eyes on you,

I don’t want to be apart from you,

would you agree if I open my mind and tell you,

I want,

you and I,

to exist as one

always and forever.

the eyes don’t lie,

can you hear the rhythm of my heart?

Can you see my desires,

my affections,

dear paragon of goodness,

Do you mind If I tell you,

that,

I want us,

to age well like red wine,

dear beloved,

I want to be drunk on your lap every night

In my sleep, in my trance, I see you as mine,

Be my better half, complete me

Will you promise me forever and always too?

the paper I rolled…

poured into my paper

the words I have for her

the thoughts in my mind

about her, all about her

spent the night, burnt my candles

penning those words

To take her, to make her mine,

happily I stood by my window , waiting for her to pass by

How can I deliver it, though?

I keep wondering, unease mind, rambling affections

Look!, what saved this pestering thoughts.

She passed by,

a twist of moment,

she passed by, a dude holding her hand,

smiling with all of her face, grip with a bizarre sense of loss

I moved off from my window, I sat at my table wearily.

What have I done to my self?

I wrapped it up, my feelings

I rolled it , the paper and I put a fire to it,

If only, the water forming in my eyes, could quench it.

If only.....

alone,

he fared down the path,

left with no choice,

he made peace with himself,

jungle mind!

contemplations and whatnots!

chattering to the silence,

babblings!

the birds stopped singing,

the woods paid attention,

the forest stopped dancing,

and the insects went voiceless,

only him, just him,

alone,

musings potent enough

to still the woods,

who is this figure?

eager to know,

and

understand this fellow,

yet,

he only talks to himself,

smiling, smirking, all by himself,

as he strode the lonely road,

the road is long, and the paths are wide,

nature is disturbed.

Man, why are you talking to yourself?

why did he walk alone? They don’t know!

hoping he would share with them,

all those contemplations and whatnots!

Nature seeks answers, Man defines them.

babbling to himself,

happy with himself.

he knew he was never alone,

for he is happy with the person he is alone with.

Or maybe he supports the Red (#YNWA). :)

soft butter skin,

wrapping me,

in between skies,

my soul giving out sighs,

a night to recognize

desire and ecstasy,

slow,

grinding,

consumed by this

untamed soul,

that lies above me,

I surrender my all,

taken by this

elemental soul,

rewiring my depth,

steady thrusts,

that send me to paradise,

a gaze at the beauty,

in between those thighs,

my eyes twinkling,

fuck!

accommodating all,

sharp melodies,

her ass booming jasmine,

on top of me,

sending sharpness into my core,

pushing herself into me,

while the moon watches,

and the stars applaud,

and the crickets dance,

a festival,

a union,

to God,

to our spirits,

encompassing the room,

my hand encircling those,

soft, round shapes,

illuminating my spirit,

each motion from you,

defining me,

divine submission,

steering me wild,

laughing,

lust and love,

oh, to be taken by you, my love,

if someone is taken,

does he not plan for an escape?

this is home,

where I belong,

firing me,

turning me,

creation,

of new being,

of raw us,

you conqueror.

what I long for,

what I deserve,

total submission

to you,

your yoni,

take it all!

as I render to you

this warm cream,

shooting out;

as I reveal to you

this thick, scalding milk,

yum!

what you have been searching for,

what you need me to offer,

to,

the hidden god in between those thighs,

balance me,

with diets from your core,

good protein,

and vitamins,

make me reach,

make me panic,

make me sweat,

divide me between times,

and when I shoot,

merge me back,

my saviour.

in the sky,

in the clouds,

her own world,

full of emotions,

rich in soul,

light of lights,

fire walked with her.

then he emerged,

if love is best when shared by two,

then,

what makes it burn,

and darkness return?

he flew with her,

a companion,

from onset,

around clouds,

of different hue,

moments best shared,

oh! to fly with a lover,

a euphoria!

what else could he do,

than to pierce an arrow,

into her,

ripping her heart out,

he could not hold her soul,

a soul so feral and wild,

white lies,

the downfall,

an arrow pierced and,

left her in misery and torment,

mutating her into shadow,

a blank spirit,

in prison,

shivering in illness,

a death coming,

ah! a friend turned foe,

a lover transitioned into nemesis,

a twist in,

a den of darkness,

lost in the universe,

trapped in a world of,

unbalanced emotions,

the clouds,

upon which,

she perched,

could not,

anchor her anymore,

trapped in a world of unbalanced emotions.

cut open,

she went cold,

like a frozen shroud,

falling,

into a darkness,

of a closed tomb,

her eyes twirling,

fathomless as an abyss,

sad.

laid on the ground,

wheezing,

lost in thoughts,

echoes around her,

of her wholeness,

before his arrival,

and what she could have done wrong?

what she could have done right?

to love is to suffer,

writhing in pain,

she gave the earth her last breath,

a rattle so intense,

that dispelled the filth,

that encircled her,

in her last days,

if only she could have done this,

when he emerged,

perhaps,

when her soul,

trod the earth in the next life,

she will trust her,

her own light,

and banish any blight that dared draw near

II (2 out of 1)

she was a sweet soul,

filled with passion, desire

cheerful and friendly

like a baby

inside her;

a river of sweetness

and emotions running its course,

a sweet soul, a muse

then, he came

she fell for him,

like old leaves

she hid herself in him,

an everlasting romance, she thought.

he left her,

ripping her out

leaving her a deranged soul,

blank spirit, lost in universe

trapped in a world of unbalanced emotions,

she wept.

cut opened, she went cold

just like her new soul,

dark just like heart

her eyes fathomless like the gaping abyss

she laid there, lost in thoughts;

what she could have done wrong?

what she could have done right?

is she underserving of love?

every night, I find it very hard feel to the angelic softness of my pillow

while the world is asleep, I lie awake

every beautiful night, while the stars shine brightly in the sky,

I feel much more worst, wave of memories and feelings took over me

many thoughts running through my mind

many warnings running through my head

this and that, these and those

how do I get here?

every night while the crickets are chirping

when the kids are listening to moonlight stories

I lay wearily on my bed, and,idk,watch the demons take control of my mind

the cock will crow soon and here will I lie weak

dark circles and bags formed under my helpless eyes

When will this end?

you know,

I have been pondering a lot,

yes,

about us,

about…

when I am around you?

A thousand questions,

I asked myself.

and here they go:

what use are my hands if they’re not holding yours,

as we walk by the beachside,

at night?

what use are my fingers if they are not inside you?

what use are my eyes but to stare into yours?

of what value is my heart,

were it not beating for you?

what worth is my soul,

if I don’t entwine it with yours,

you star of the sea?

to what purpose are my thumb and fingers,

if they’re not twirling your hardened, sensitive crowns?

where lies the meaning if I’m with you and your labia don’t collide with mine,

feasting upon your honeyed lips?

of what value are your cheeks, if not to lean on me,

my palms spreading them wide,

an ultimate relinquishing?

what purpose does the edge of my tongue serve,

if it doesn’t wheel around your areola?

what use are our voices if we are not sitting and speaking to the moon?

what use is my mouth if it does not,

conquer the warmth of your butter skin?

what use is my tongue if it’s not caressing your sweet spot,

the eye of desire?

wait…,

of what importance is my mouth if your toe is not inside?

as we lie down,

what use is my glans if it’s not ruffling thy wet yoni?

how futile is my face, if your backside is not perched upon it?

what use are your ears, if I am not kissing them,

as waves kiss the sand?

My love,

these questions echo in my mind,

answer me,

in the way

your body

yields

to mine,

the way

you wish

to undo me,

as I,

want to undo you…

just like this,

simple and sweet,

divine breed,

that is worth all heed,

you, supernal creed,

that makes the chastest soul keyed.

You are all I crave,

all I want,

wherever, whenever,

I see you everywhere,

in my sleep, in my deeps,

you are the wave,

that flips the brave,

nature’s fave,

a medium of rave.

You are all I prayed for,

all I desired,

fought for,

grace and mercy,

fill my soul,

hands stretched in space,

and a smile on my face,

all I could sense,

all you came with,

celestial joy,

my victory.

You are all magical,

eternal,

supernal,

like the moon,

you emerged,

and,

held back these clouds

of blackness,

tarrying off the dark,

you light up

my way as

I walk the dark,

heading home,

to a place of peace and

tranquility,

where we would live forever in oneness.

you are all…

you are my all…

to be still?

I do not know,

of all things I know,

I know I want you there,

to be there,

forever,

though,

I am mortal,

I cannot

promise you,

forever,

so live,

in my pulse,

in my veins,

till I am called.

Do I really think,

my heart,

will be still?

I laugh,

these answers are beyond me,

ever since you have been there,

I can remember the morning,

you walked in there,

it was a bright, sunny morning,

all other contents in my heart rise,

to see the elegance,

I let in,

you beauty of wonder,

since then,

I am not sure,

I will tell myself the truth,

you stroll down the lane of my heart,

and they collide,

you take the room,

and they lose balance,

and I know,

I am thinking,

about you,

and I cannot help it,

like a wave, you rise,

and settle into me,

what a joy!

for I know,

you are the calm,

and the chaos,

and extension of me,

Do I really think,

my heart,

will be still?

I laugh,

these answers are beyond me...

you are the wave, and

I am the ocean,

you are me,

and,

I am you.

Pressure II

Like ice,

I melt,

in despair,

and sorrow,

lost,

in a wilderness,

of nowhere,

exhausted,

on a spot,

moving

in circles,

in pain,

in humiliation,

I do not know,

the path home,

who will embrace me?

I am falling,

is the ground there to meet me?

Please, tell me,

and let me know,

before I move.

Ignite me,

like a struck match,

wildflowers survive,

in the wild,

this I know,

and after a downpour,

rainbows come,

this I know,

gold purifies in fire,

and diamonds are formed,

under intense heat,

a phoenix rises from its ashes,

and stars explode,

this I know,

through these cracks,

I will shine forth,

and penetrate,

this vastness,

and tell stories,

till then,

getting through this,

is my aim,

and,

I’ll tell you,

my world is shaken,

and I am sad,

the past and the future,

and the voices of flaws,

grip my heart,

for what have I done,

to deserve all this,

this hollowness,

and miseries,

that plague me,

and burn my youth,

wasting,

like the end of a cigar,

comfort of lies,

and,

lies of comfort,

near me,

every morning,

handing me rituals,

beyond me,

my identity at stake,

and my divine search,

struggling to breathe,

taunting my peace,

and I trust in me,

and I am seeing,

I am the diamond,

the mountain that rises from quakes,

the rainbow, the gold,

and the wildflower.

Our willingness to wait reveals the value we place on the object we’re waiting for.

Charles Stanley

I wanted to write this “on waiting,” especially from the modern-day dating and relationship scenario. I am part of it, you are part of it, and we have seen the dark side and the sweet side of relationships. I believe it depends on where you are, your algorithm, your immediate environment, and the “hot tea” flying around.

I have observed relationships from an end, and the complicated part is waiting, waiting for something: a text from your lover, or from an ex-lover, an old friend, a song from a favourite artist, a message, a call, needs to be met, and so on. A miracle, money, a result, a confirmation letter, a positive turnaround, a scholarship, an interview granted, an admission letter, or an acceptance letter. Anything in the form of waiting.

But WAITING revolves around so many ideas, and here, I would love to talk about relationships. Mind you, people wait for certainty, a version of themselves they lost, a version they are yet to meet, a version they have never met but that is hiding within them, a version of themselves that feels safe, present, and not in survival mode, their inner child they never embraced, the permission they never got, the love and attention they never received, and the mirroring they never experienced.

What are you waiting for?

From the romantic relationship angle, everyone has waited for the other. We might have made our partner wait. I have made them wait too, consciously or unconsciously. They have made me wait too, wondering and wandering. A humorous situation and state, I tell you.

You watch each second pass, every bird fly by, each vehicle move by, people walk by, each living their life and having their fun, and you, in waiting, are only hanging on by tension and random thoughts, feeling an intense emotion that strikes like thunder.

You wonder.

Sometimes you try to overthink, but it is just those intrusive thoughts. You motivate yourself, trying to balance up. In a sense, you are living too.

Not a full day, an incomplete living, I would say.

You don’t know what you are feeling.

A calm hurry.

You wanted something. You hung on to hope and patience. You sat and stood up many times, looking out the window. Some days are filled with hope, some days are filled with worry and anxiety.

You wake up to sit with the feeling.

Most times, those days are not good to sit with, while there are days you do not wish to sit because sitting implies that you are about to enter an ocean, an ocean that may take you where you never wish to go.

And all this happens while juggling work, a job, a business, and life.

And Most times, we don’t know what we are waiting for.

Yet, we need something, a particular thing, an answer.

Hoping.

We stay.

We believe.

We exercise patience.

Children wait.

Adults wait.

We were all children once.

Mom or Dad, or a certain caregiver, has left home all day, and we wait.

“Mummy is coming home.”

“Daddy is coming home soon.”

“He will get something for me.”

And the excitement we feel, and the relief that grips us when Dad’s car arrives or Mum’s voice comes through the door.

We know how moody or quite “mad” we have been when they are not around.

“If pain must come, may it come quickly. Because I have a life to live, and I need to live it in the best way possible. If he has to make a choice, may he make it now. Then I will either wait for him or forget him.”

Paulo Coelho

And

Something has been on my mind.

Does the energy we put into waiting, knowingly or unknowingly, worth it?

We are the ones waiting, hoping, and thinking it all.

Will the energy be filled up when we have gotten all we wanted?

These ponder my mind.

And it is even worse when some people do not know what they are waiting for.

Waiting on past memories?

Old gratifications?

Recurring past?

The future?

You want to feel what you felt that time, and you do not know how to make it happen, so you exercise patience.

To revive, to wake up, or ease up some stored unresolved energy and feelings.

A Romantic and Platonic Relationship Perspective

You wanted a text from a lover.

You sent a message.

You expect him or her to reply.

Two hours pass.

Three hours.

The message is double-ticked or blue-ticked.

You saw “online.”

“Seen.”

Retweeted.

Restacked.

Reshared.

They posted on their page or status.

You sit.

You tense up.

You try to maintain composure.

Busy?

Come online suddenly to do all those things?

You try to calm down.

You talk to yourself.

“It’s you, not him or her.”

“No one is abandoning me. I am abandoning myself.”

A pop appears on your screen.

Your face lights up.

It is not them.

You try to calm yourself, again

You realize that it is becoming more and more uncalmable.

You wonder if they love you or not.

Conflicting feelings.

You have so much to talk about.

You want a rant.

You message him or her again.

The same silence.

Every notification signifies something, and your hormones rise.

It is not them.

You think.

You imagine what you are going to say to him or her when she replies or when he replies.

You pace up and down the room.

Ideas form in your head. you dramatize

Maybe there was a fight or a little argument in the morning.

Maybe a word was spoken.

Maybe he or she is avoiding you.

And you do not know whether what you said was hurtful.

Then you wonder, and your mind ponders.

You just wait.

In anger.

In frustration.

Communication and curiosity are truly the purest forms of relationship.

You can’t scream.

You just hope and wait.

Silent resentment starts building up.

You find it hard to talk about it.

Maybe that is what they thought of as love, but recently it feels like abuse, neglect, and punishment.

Communication is better.

Feel what you need to feel.

Feel it all.

The anxiety.

The fear.

What you are running from.

Is there anything worse than waiting when something is needed desperately?

Have you ever waited?

And made someone wait by hurting them?

I have done both, and I have experienced both.

Reflecting back, you see that it goes both ways.

Acting both ways.

Hurting both ways.

......

Now everyone around you sees and knows that this is not your energy, not the way you usually are.

The dullness in your energy is visible.

Something is shaking you from within.

They ask.

And as usual, you tell them:

“I am fine.”

With a smirk on your face.

You couldn’t tell them what you are dealing with.

No one safe is around you yet,

to tell what burning under your cloth

They can’t give you the thing you need and are waiting for.

The one person you want to talk to is nowhere to be found.

It is you and your misery.

Your emotions.

Your hope against you and the world.

You wonder:

Whose emotions are these?

They are yours anyway.

You go on with work, your pressurized, pulsing heart carrying something quite bigger.

A sweet madness dancing within you.

Have you ever waited and made someone wait?

You can’t tell, or say?

Or has someone made you wait?

Or are you waiting for something aside from relationships, an email, finances, a meeting, a loved one?

How did it end?

I would love to end this with a short poem to attach to this article. While waiting takes many forms, this poem explores one of its most familiar faces: waiting for someone who never quite arrives, yet never truly leaves.

On the riverbank,

I stood,

days passed and nights moved,

waiting for you to show.

I counted every hull,

I wished you were on the ship,

yet they never landed

or come to my side.

Where are you?

If the sun goes down again,

at least,

show up and light up my days forever.

I think and I cry.

To forget is a torture,

a whip on my bare back,

an arrow to my aching heart.

Living life,

and

having fun with you,

and chasing our dreams,

was the purpose.

Fellas, to be left behind

is a pain.

Just come back,

and take me with you.

I want to watch you live,

not in my imagination,

but as a witness,

counting your smiles.

So much to talk about.

Or if you will come,

and stretch your hand,

and I show you

where it aches in me,

whether you would heal me

or

break me entirely,

at least,

I will leave this shore,

even if my dreams of you do not end

Pressure I

Voices howling from the balcony,

acting out their own agony.

Down the hall,

echoes from the wall,

their masked flaws.

I will not fall,

not at all.

Overwhelming,

each morning,

sinking,

down

in a million thoughts.

This ball is in my court,

sand beneath my feet,

and stuck

in between all these waves.

A thousand dreams

in this small world

of tedious work,

little time,

and,

in my small canoe,

my paddle and me,

rowing on each side.

I won’t let these doubts frighten me.

I see the sea’s calmness,

its presence.

I must get it,

get there,

be like it,

like water,

flowing,

moving,

still the sea,

still the water.

Survival of my dreams,

despite all these screams

of ghosts and foes.

Not afraid at all.

A room to breathe,

that’s what I must get.

To walk tall,

walk the ocean floor,

to see the balcony,

and embrace

these voices,

zero definition.

“We are waiting for you.”

“Be this, be that, be us.”

“Run, run, run, boy.”

Loud, loud,

alone in this cloud,

only me left to be found.

Honestly, I think no one, absolutely no one, has gotten the idea behind love or how to love. Romantic poets have all written about the idea of loving. They wrote a lot about it: love poems, love letters to their lovers and admirers. Shakespeare wrote extensively about it. Artists sang, wrote lyrics, and the religious books have described love in various ways. Movies were made about love. I have seen a lot of movies about loving, love, romance, or whatever sweet name we might give it.

Yet, I believe no one has really grasped the idea behind it. Most haven’t gotten the idea of love. It seems infinite. It’s some sort of puzzle. I believe it’s constantly evolving with time, with the individual, and with ourselves.

We have seen most lovers loving themselves, all glowing on the outside, or so we think. Then boom! It happened. They left. The goodbyes. How does this happen? Was it all a facade? Was one loving the other less? Unrequited love? What might have been wrong? I often ask myself.

Is it the primal instinct of humans to never be fully satisfied, always longing for something more? Why won’t they know if one is loving the other less? What’s the measure of love? How can we know if we are loving less, loving the other, and they do not feel any love or see love?

What about those who didn’t seem glowing or happy on the outside? We might have judged, “Only God knows how they are coping,” or, “They didn’t seem cute.” But they held on together for so long and lived happily ever after.

Perhaps, it all starts from loving oneself. Radically accepting oneself and loving oneself unconditionally.

To love someone else is easy, but to love oneself is to embrace a glowing red-hot iron - Carl Jung.

You can’t be a naked person and offer a shirt. I think it starts with us. Do we love ourselves enough to love this soul? Can we hold them enough? Can we forgive? Have we loved ourselves enough to tell them we love them and act on it? Does this other person love himself or herself enough to give and receive love? Because we are their mirrors, and they are mirroring us also. Can we forgive, see their flaws, and still be kind? Expanding one’s awareness, staying curious about them, and wanting them to evolve. And I think that’s the beginning of loving oneself: to face oneself, confront ourselves, and make our demons bow. It might have meant that. It might also be the “almost” to getting it.

We have seen spouses love themselves and end up hurting or sabotaging the ship. I have been there. I thought I was all-loving, and the person whom I loved, my partner, was screaming and dying inside, angry. I held on to my own idea of love, or the love I grew up with. Resentment was taking over the ship. Everything was right, I thought, and my partner was doing something she might have thought was loving. Meanwhile, it was turning inside us like a knife.

Parents love their children, or so they think, through boundary infringements, controlling them, dismissing their feelings and experiences.

In truth, I have always searched my mind for what love is. What could it be? Do we learn to love by being loved? How do we know we are practicing love?

Do I love myself? How do I know I am loving myself? What if I have been hurting myself while calling it love? What if I have been betraying myself all along? Perhaps I was loving myself only in the way I understood love, or in the way I had been conditioned to love by people and environments that never truly loved themselves.

Perhaps one doesn’t want to be loved as much as to be understood - George Orwell

Do we say we love with the amount of time we spend with them, how much we stay curious about them, watch them change and evolve, and how we try to understand them? Or is it how often we listen to them, how much attention we give, the calls we make, the gifts we get for them, or how secure and safe we make them feel? By how much feedback or sex or playfulness?

In a sense, to love is to understand. To want to Know. To want them in all their wholeness, not an idea of them. To see them as the Universe or God has seen them. To love them in a way they understand.

Religious books have described love. The Holy Bible says that love is patient and kind. Asian cultures have also said much about it. To love is to make the other free, and many others have expressed similar ideas.

Where love rules, there is no will to power, and where power predominates there love is lacking. One is the shadow of the other. - Carl Jung.

To make one free is not to control them. To see them for who they are becoming and to trust their sense of self. I came to learn this very recently. We have to accept the other, and that is possible if we have accepted ourselves. Not to control. As someone said, control is a form of disabled will. We are willing what cannot be willed. We cannot change the other person.

We often think we are loving, whereas we are actually hurting, invalidating, and making them uncomfortable, even when it comes to ourselves.

What does Love really mean? Who have gotten the idea behind It??.

heavy heart,

frequent smiles,

this is how I live my day,

the past I had lived,

and the decisions I have made,

the melodies in my heart,

the future I hope for,

the desires I crave,

and the fantasies I dream of,

all dance within,

taunting me, turning me.

the dreams I woke up from,

the sweet ones I had lost,

and memories made and revisited,

they dance like demons in the forest,

tuning to the sound of drums,

twisting like a bolt being tightened.

the hopelessness I felt on every corridor I passed,

I could feel the air as I moved through these streets,

the silent cries from living dead,

buried fears, numbed emotions,

forgotten dreams,

howling as I passed from house to house,

walking among these resting skeletons in flesh,

dead eyes, unlived lives,

living for nothing, caring for nothing,

except their false selves,

all these are knives inside me.

they tumble, they twirl inside my head.

I am the night club,

quiet outside, humming

with different colours of light,

with different sounds,

vibrating, existing within me.

Tomorrow may never come,

Of what value will it serve me,

if I refuse to get up?

everything will definitely pause,

life won't really go on for long.

tick-tock says my room's clock

the precious time flies,

little did I know, I am the pilot.

overly cautious for a while,

I need to make moments worthwhile,

live each day as it unfolds

and savour every beauty it holds.

tomorrow may never come,

for no one knows the time,

the time to live is now.

for death smiles at us all,

the best thing we can do is smile back

like a music concert, everything will definitely end

life won't really go on and on and on like flowing river.

©️ Dára

Tomorrow may never come,

Of what value will it serve me,

if I refuse to get up?

everything will definitely pause,

life won't really go on for long.

tick-tock says my room's clock

the precious time flies,

little did I know, I am the pilot.

overly cautious for a while,

I need to make moments worthwhile,

live each day as it unfolds

and savour every beauty it holds.

tomorrow may never come,

for no one knows the time,

the time to live is now.

for death smiles at us all,

the best thing we can do is smile back

like a music concert, everything will definitely end

life won't really go on and on and on like flowing river.

©️ Dára