Take off the top of my head

If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?

Emily Dickinson.



Today is a beautiful day,…


Today is a beautiful day, like the others before it and the others to come.


A posed question

What in life is permanent?

The standard answer would be “nothing”.Nothing in life is ever permanent — things come and go in waves. It arises and it ceases.

Then I observed my cravings today. And I realise that cravings come and go. My craving for fast-food, my craving for ice-cream, my craving for yoghurt, my craving for many other things.

So it occurred to me that there is something permanent after all and that is craving.

Then another thought surfaced: was I really craving after the objects per se or was it just…craving of craving?

Questions on Self

When we are unhappy with another person, why do we punish ourselves by doing things like gorging on food and maintaining anger? 

When we can accept that there is a plurality of viewpoints and opinions in the world, why can we not accept the fact that your loved ones, as a result of this plurality, will not share the same viewpoint as yourself? 

Again, when we are intellectually aware of this plurality and other similar facts (or cliches, if you will), why can we not put words into practice? 

Night observations #1

The Australian walks across the road. The red man is on – a silent signal. His right arm – the Australian’s – trembles, a disorder that couldn’t be cured.

“Now I’m torn between loyalties. You know, in Tokyo, they don’t cross when the light’s red? They’ll stop and wait there at the line…” the Australian droned to another man beside him.

Traffic drowns out the rest of the conversation. His friend would have heard the rest.

Moments later the green man blinks.

A Japanese woman, small in stature, runs in the man’s footsteps. She catches up with the voice before it fades entirely into the night.

“Guilty, guilty,” she says in a high-pitch voice.


Sublime sunlight

At first, I had nothing to write for today. But I remembered that something significant happened yesterday morning.

I was on a bus to work when it suddenly pierced me how wonderful the sunlight at that very moment was. The light comes from a sun that continuously burns and yet the light reaches us in different degrees, each pleasing and disturbing everyone.

The soft light pleased me for it casts everything in a gossamer glow, beautifying everything. The journey to work, the crowded bus, commuters’ expressions. It’s the kind of sunlight I like best. At once a reminder of both the day and night because I still feel the coldness in my bones and in the air. I see a trace of night in the air, water vapour hanging over large patches of greenery, to be evaporated by the sunlight once it’s out.

At 8am, it’s still a kind of day/night. When the moon hangs out in the sky and the sunlight’s light.

There are so many versions of sunlight out there for each and everyone of us. For those who want to tan, for those who want light, for those who want heat, for those who want a rainbow, for those who want life. By the mere interference of a landscape, of a horizon, of the earth’s spin, of the universe’s spin, infinite possibilities exist. Simply sublime.

Good Music Is Hard To Find

In the world there are plenty of songs that will make you laugh, cry, smile or tear.

There are plenty of songs that will make her laugh, cry, smile or tear too.

But there are only a few in the world that will make you do all at once.

And fewer still, that can make the both do all at once, together.