The footfalls of the day are fading.
The traces are leaving, if there exists,
are the taints on the floor like ripples
on windblown sand and thumb motes
on my skin of shoppers who never purchase.

Scents linger and humidity settles.
Everything is heavier now
even the floor reacts
on the last shadow’s gravity
like needle pricks against its skin.

I watch the departure
and recall the hours.
Hand warmth imprinted like passages
captured in the vacuum pack of my body,
my stuffed fur.

This day settles slow
like the flickers of the light
as the last open door closes. Silence
fits itself into my shelf, the only buyer
who settles for the least price I am offered.

What is it about being somewhere else and moving that is hard to comprehend?  Aren't we all looking for permanence? Aren't we all, when on our journey, longing to be home or to be right exactly where we are, where we are happy and content?

That proverbial journey.  The need to be always somewhere else I still fail to understand it. I don’t know journey at all. 

I don’t want to be somewhere else.  Maybe because “somewhere else” is the destination and not the journey itself and I don’t have mind set to it?  Maybe because when I am on a journey, all I have in mind is permanence.  Permanence is my home and home is that something we carry along with us wherever we go. It is what keeps us moving.  Not moving to be somewhere, but moving towards an inevitable destination. That is to be back home, always at the day’s end. Always at the day’s end.

 __________________________________

An excerpt from Jann Arden's Journal

“ ...The world frustrates all of us. It seems so dismal and pointless some days that it just weighs you down. Personally, for the most part, I just walk around in piles of white clouds, I do. The pointlessness seems important in the big scheme of things. All the things that we don't understand, that make us better than we are, for whatever reason. We are not to know of every little miracle. Not everything is finite. Not everything is answerable. Not everything can be explained away. Not everything makes sense.

Thankfully, most things are just lovely happenings that make our humanity such a wonderful exercise. Our souls are soaking up every little nuance. We take in things we are so not aware of. Millions of thoughts that come and go through our brains and hearts, all noticed, but not labeled and compartmentalized. They all shape our personalities and our ability to be empathic. The beautiful poet "Rilke” often writes about being here on the planet. That to be here, "only once", is in and of itself so blessed. Just once. To live simply and not always be dwelling on where we are going from here, if indeed it is anywhere at all. That "this" is wonderful and perfect and full of light. I want to be more like that. I want to quit worrying about where I am going and being just where I am. It sounds like a giant cliché, but it's quite simply the truth of all that matters...”

All of This
Jann Arden

Some days you wake up cold.  Like all the warmth in your body receded. It’s some sort of hypothermia, only it isn’t your body that’s cold but your feelings. The certain warmth that usually perks you up each morning, enough for you to be excited and anticipating suddenly is missing. Perhaps dream stole it away and taken it somewhere you can never find them again. Dreams rarely repeat itself in succession so you’re certain that the warmth will be gone for a long time; if it ever comes back again. Rarely, warmth is ever the same. So, that once familiar glow will be lost forever. It’s irreplaceable. The truth is; dreams never take away anything from us, circumstances do.

Circumstances. Sometimes I think they are cold, emotionless, ruthless and with complete disregard of what we truly feel. They are not human at all. They just happen. Often times without a warning. You just woke up one day with a new set of saddening experiences.  Right in front of you is a situation you never saw coming. Not even a precognition of some sort that your life will be on a detour or will be derailed. You wouldn’t know what to do. But maybe there are signs. Maybe, we human beings are just blindsided.  We choose to see only those we want to perceive. Present circumstances are brought about by circumstance in the past. Life is a series of events that continuously reel until it reaches its final frame; consequences after another. Why then do we always get caught surprised? No matter what we do, we just can’t and won’t be able to prepare. Preparation is for a planned event and life is never a planned event, it hardly is.

Ending of a relationship is one of those circumstances. Missing the one you love and crying over them for days and sleepless nights is yet another. Moving on is still another. Getting used to being alone again is another of those anothers. Facing these circumstances is like getting used to the cold, to the sudden rain that dampens your body leaving you soaking wet. Warmth is drawn away. You shiver endlessly like you’ll never feel warm again. Until the cold pierce right to your core and suddenly you get used to it. You got used to getting used to. And then you won’t complain anymore.  You won’t feel cold anymore because it’s cold enough in the inside. You just knew, on nights like these, you have to draw the blanket tighter onto your body until it becomes your second skin. You stay in bed fetal-positioned, embracing yourself, hoping to dream of the past, the happy ones the most.  Somehow wish that dream will take bitter circumstances away and wake you up to a better one. Who knows dream might just take it away.

Eventually you have to wake up and stop dreaming and yes some days you’ll wake up cold but once you’re used to it, it won’t hurt anymore. You just have to live it through. Maybe I will.

This is just one of them days.  Frustration is brushing his skin against mine softly, as if tenderly.

I can hear my own shivering. Sensation is moaning for release. My heart is squeaking like mice hiding on a cupboard. Muffling its own beat. Anticipating a chance to come out. Peaking out, peeping out, eager to taste the ambrosia a breath away from me. I am too afraid, too cautious. You are too precious to my touch but you are touching me. You are giving out the signs, a penchant to my desire.

You are there. Delectable skin against mine. Teasing taste. Breath is not breathing at all. The air is so tight. The space so small to contain desire; to contain you and I. You are bigger than I am. You’re feeding upon my desire.

 I am not releasing air. I am inhaling. Taking in the beautiful scent you are releasing. You are mine. Almost mine but not quite. You are for the gods. You are god. I am a mouse.

Kapag hindi mo mahanap ang tamang salita upang bigyang tinig ang mga nais mong sabihin at hindi mo na kayang tawagin sa kaniyang pangalan ang Kalungkutan dahil kapag binanggit mo ito, alam mong lilingon ang mga mata niyang lagi nang luhaan.

At alam mong kailangan na siyang tawagin sa ibang pangalan ngunit hindi mo tiyak kung  lilingon rin siya kapag tinawag mong “Pagmamahal.”
 
Maari mo ba siyang tawaging “Kaligayahan” kung alam mong wala ito sa kaniyang tunay na kahulugan? Hindi kailanman magiging ganito ang pangalan niya. 
 
Gaganti ba siya kapag tinawag mo siyang “Katangahan” at sasabihin niyang “Ikaw ang pumili sa aking makasama.  Ikaw ang nagyaya sa aking makisalo sa iyong hapag at ngayong naubos na ang kayang mong ibigay ay tatawagin mo akong lapastangan.” Matatanggap mo ba iyon? Ikukumpisal mo bang ikaw ang may kasalanan?

Tatabihan mo pa ba siya kahit alam mong siya na lamang ang tanging natitira mong kasama sa madilim na silid na iyong kinalalagyan at siya na lamang ang tanging yumayakap sa iyo sa malalamig na gabing kailangan mo ng kasama at walang ibang nariyan maliban sa kaniya.
 
Padadamayin mo pa rin ba siya kapag ika’y umiiyak upang pahirin ng kaniya ring luha ang iyong mga luha. Tatawagin mo pa ba ang kaniyang pangalan. 
 
At kung magiging masaya ka piling ng Kalungkutan. Malulungkot ka pa ba?

Nilulunod ko ang nararamdaman ko ngayon sa kantang ito. Baka sakaling magkatotoo ang lyrics at ako'y mamulaklak.

The Rose
LeeAnn Rimes

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reef
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed

Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless, aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you it's only seed

It's the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance
It’s the dream afraid of waking
That never takes the chance

It's the one who won't be taken,
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul afraid of dying
That never learns to live

And the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong

Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed that with the sun's love,
In the spring, becomes a rose.