In-Between

It’s the moments in-between.

To realize everything is in the angles.

That the destination is not as important as the journey.

In the journey, the ups, the downs, the in-betweens,

You get to find paths you knew nothing about.

You get to wonder in depths that fill you up.

You get engulfed in love without an end.

You get to control everything that’s uncontrollable.

Sometimes you stop.

Sometimes you miss a sign.

Sometimes you miss a turn.

Sometimes you get an empty tank.

But everything that you miss, gets you right where you wanted to be.

The more you grow the more you understand the destination is in all the seconds of the journey.

So in-between the laughs, breathe.

So in-between the cries, breathe.

So in-between the falling in love, breathe.

So in-between the stares, breathe.

So in-between the silence, breathe.

So let life take your breath away in simple things.

Like the smell of rain, like the sight of a flying bird.

So build your journey as you go, step by step.

Who said a laugh can’t lead you to greatness.

Who said a cry can’t create a path of success.

Who said falling in love can’t set the tempo of going up in life.

Who said the stares can’t show you the road to your next victory.

Who said silence can’t create loud miracles.

So in-between each moment, don’t forget the seconds are long enough for you to breathe!

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I Want To

Journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. What if I want to go more past those miles? Life is never what it seems. At least I have learnt that in the past few weeks. I had the privilege of taking a step back. To see a bigger picture. Picture of a thousand white roses. Up to date, I hardly understand why I started loving such a phrase. ‘A picture of a thousand white roses’. A friend asked me why I thought people get depressed over small manageable issues. And funny enough my mind was in fact, depressed. I wish I was bold enough to tell that one friend, of my nights, crawled up at edge of my bed, on the floor, the coldness of it all gently warming me up. I wish I had the courage to tell that one friend of the mornings I spend in the shower, with nothing but tears running down. I wish I was bold enough to tell that friend that actually some men cry, get confused, and contemplate suicide more often than not. But what stops them? A hope for a better tomorrow? A prayer silently made in the depths of a man’s deepness? Yet, they wake up, show up to fight another day. I wish that friend saw the tears behind my eyes as I answered that question. You see, depression is never a matter of just a small thing that affects someone. It is the series of small manageable things piercing in the depths of your deepness, drowning you from deep within till the days turn into nights of gasping for a breath, till the nights turn into days of digging inside yourself for just but a smile for others. Yes, for others to see you are okay. You see, every day you wake up knowing you will slit your wrists, cut your ankles, slice up your thighs. But after each day, you go to sleep dreading for tomorrow. Because it starts all over again. A loop of some sorts. You close off, becoming one with music. It keeps one going, I should know. But one thing about thoughts clouding every breath is you just want to feel. It doesn’t matter if its pain, or not. The very essence of dark rooms, solitude, creeps inside you and settles in like a plague. It satisfies you. Even when your phone goes silent for a week, you don’t mind but it eats you up, driving you deeper into the depths of an ocean of solitude. I should know. I wish I told my friend all this and much more, but time is never so generous. Friends seem always busy, even when meeting, just but a few minutes then they are gone. And for those good few minutes, half of them is spent on their phone. You wish your phone was as busy as theirs sometimes. Maybe then you would feel wanted, but for now you are stuck with the coldness slicing through your wrists. You just want to feel, to understand. The feel of being wanted, of being needed. Then the same friends wonder why you rarely go out. It’s perhaps because everyone is always on their phones except you. It’s perhaps because friendship lost meaning along the way. It’s perhaps because people don’t understand friendship anymore.

But what do I know about friendship? I’m just seated here, writing this in my head word by word, as my dear friend chats on the phone even after such a depressing question. I can’t wait to go back my cold, slithering floor, at the edge of my bed, maybe then they will chat with me so vehemently. Maybe I just want to feel more than the depths of an ocean…

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That Tired Bench

In a clogged world full of noise, I just want to be immersed in silence.

The depressing, dark-filled silence.

For not many find beauty in it, but agony and pain.

But what is a world without pain?

Would we know love if there was no hate?

Would we know what it felt like being complete without being broken?

So in the middle of that evening, I sat on that silent bench.

As people rushed to catch their evening bus home,

Seemingly to their ever happy homes.

I knew why darkness was beautiful, at that moment.

I understood why the best of time comes after the worst.

It wasn’t the cold evening breeze that made itself felt,

But the promise of a beautiful starry night revealed itself on the horizon.

So I sat there, on a freezing bench, breathing in sets of fresh air with mounts of foulness in it.

It must have silently seen worse days pass by, as I had seen better days come to pass.

And grew tired of them.

Nothing is ever perfect, not even the sincerest smiles of the universe.

Its flaws ensure its beauty never runs dry.

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Sinking Thoughts

It had been just but a few years, pretty rough, in my thoughts.

People had been through hell and back, yet I felt I was in one.

I keep on wondering what really I had accomplished.

Was I an inspiration?

Was I a role model?

Was I but an older guy like the rest?

I had dreams, I wrote down goals.

The law of attraction they said.

Pray more they said.

So I dug deeper into a muddy pool of quick sand.

Only that I wasn’t sinking.

I was stuck, sinking in my own thoughts.

Every day, I sat on the same chair.

Every day, I realized the veracity of my life.

Every day, thoughts of my dreams reminded me of what I hadn’t accomplished.

A cycle of never-changing days, each day absolutely the same with the next.

I also had dreams, young and ambitious.

I went ahead and took on life, a desire to do everything.

A desire, filled with castle-air promises.

Time, ticking away slowly, is of the essence.

An escape is all I needed.

Leave my mind behind, sinking in its thoughts.

*telephone rings*

My thoughts pause, just for a while.

The voice on the other end reminds me of my obligation.

The voice reminds me of my big dreams that got narrower and specific.

The voice reminds me of my small yet of magnitude accomplishments.

The voice reminds me of a home I’m to go to.

The voice reminds me of family I’ve built up.

The voice is a constant reminder that I’m still on the highway of life.

A voice, reminding me that I’m young enough to dream,

But old enough to do what it takes, to accomplish them, step by step.

Voices, mature enough to show me what I’ve build so far.

They remind me, through my sinking thoughts.

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Dream About Me

I get lost in my dreams, but I never stop dreaming.

Thoughts remind me in the morning that I am still human, not an animal.

Painting faces, coloring worlds but my own.

Save the best for last.

Yet my dreams swim alone in dark rooms, pretending.

Pretending it’s a world full of city streets and candles.

I don’t know what happens inside them.

I wish I could.

I wish I did call my dreams, late in the night.

Talk endlessly, living in self-mirages.

I wish I could hear its voices, in my head.

Guiding path of wonder and illusion of what’s to come.

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Shooting Stars

I wish I believed in shooting stars.

Maybe then I’d be living my fantasy.

Only then could I understand.

Why the sky is full of stars, to be wished upon.

I wish I lived in the moments.

Maybe then I’d realize how life sets you apart to your own journey.

I wish I forced my limits to the sky.

Maybe then I would understand what it’s like to be airborne.

I wish I jumped to opportunities.

Maybe then I’d have been far away living my dreams.

I wish life was unfair.

Maybe then I’d have accepted how fair it in its existence.

Life is a journey.

Full of wishes set out free into the universe.

At the end of every sunset, it doesn’t matter where I’m going or where I am.

All that is brought forth into the horizon in each sunrise is the importance.

An importance of whether or not I keep on moving.

The distance in-between serves as a reminder.

A reminder to keep on wishing, to keep on moving, to keep on building, to keep on growing!

After it’s all said and done, nothing will change how it began.

As a wish!

I’ve been drowned in so many wishes, but no regrets in the end.

Life turns out better than the wish of my wishes, every day.

Everyday, the stars keep on shooting.

So why regret and the sky is full of them?

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Frail Heart

My eyes stare into the horizon, quick to understand what life is not.

The sound of my frail heart, beating, to assure me of a life being lived,

Against the rushing winds, going nowhere fast!

I have my journey to live out, every step to step on.

No one wants to be ripples in a dying out pond, especially my heart.

It wants to live, a fulfilling life full of smiles and laugher.

A life full of purpose, and bittersweet execution of ideas well thought of.

Those shivering moments, of standing against the wind, is what life is about.

Those shivering moments, of gathering enough thresholds, is what life is about.

I want to take off, even when I stand in these gashing winds.

Get enough thresholds to get to the ever-ending skies.

My direction will be dealt with, once in the skies.

That yearns, to be oblivious of anything around you.

A need to soar the limitless skies, unbound by hate or love!

Nothing but the sound of my frail heart pushing me to go higher, faster!

I’m not sick, but sickness is my disease.

Sickness of always flying better, remembering to forget I was but a helpless child.

Knowing nothing but living life, now it’s just a matter of the moments that take my breath.

For the long days, and nights, I wait silently as the winds blow.

Silently watching the horizon, listening closely to the cries of my heart,

In another life, I would have been in the air force, or a pilot,

But this is it, this is my life, I will be just me.

Not letting my life be what it would be, but!

Let me take a role, together with the universe far in the horizon, to shape what is mine.

Tempting fate to play my cards right, because my frail heart knows there are no right cards.

For now, I just have a frail heart, beating, assuring me of a life that will be well lived.broken heart

Last Night

Last night, you were still there.

Behind the curtain walls, you smiled a disastrously light smile.

Today, as I walked down the stairs, you reminded me.

That you of all would hardly leave, you could have guessed my outright reaction.

Tomorrow, the Sun will shine, brighter than any star embedded deep in your fiery eyes.

Last night, I dined on privileges far reaching beyond my short sightedness.

I was utterly abashed with my inexperience, but I kept up with my eager learning.

Today, the change was overwhelming.

Dismayed, I had to put two and two together as they unfolded.

Tomorrow, always brought with it hope of a continuity of a journey.

Until now, I held firmly to roads less traveled, are better traveled alone!

Last night, you took it upon yourself to change that.

You fascinated over how an eagle was perfectly embodied into its environment.

Today, i engrossed myself in how such a journey lead to its mightiness in the sky.

The very elements of nature, shaping its journey, nurturing its ways, bring it to survival.

Tomorrow, as lay my eyes upon your graced innovated beauty, a blue-star diamond.

A distorted notion, ends can never justify the means.

Last night, you stood high and mighty, infuriated!

By the needs that never come, I was to provide it all, insufficiency on my path.

Today, however!

Charged with allure of being amazed with what you exactly needed versus what you exactly had, were one of the same.

Tomorrow, those stars filled in her tenacious eyes, will resolute.

And hold me captive as I drop down on my knees.

Last night, you finally saw me.

In warmth, I was immersed in its purest form of oblivion, your beauty of a blue-star diamond.

Today, the world smiled back.

From within, it consumed, a consuming fire so beautiful and ugly, it raged.

Tomorrow was light hours away.

Ice, in a cold heart that sought warmth, not the fire that resided in your eyes drew me closer.

Last night, it was accelerated fire, leaving behind nothing but dark soot remains.

Once pale, now it was shielded by a thin veil of authentic truth.

Today, love licks it all off, the soot.

A blazing inferno of cold ice draws me closer, always and forever.

Tomorrow, all that would have survived after its staggering speeds was mine to discover.

What was once beautiful was an enigmatically mysterious beauty now.

Last night, I knew I had forever to be astounded by it.

I wasn’t to off to be blamed as it had finally come to be picked up by me.

Today, it’d go through your slithering soft maiden heart finger.

A symbolic two dolphin-encrusted blue-star diamond ring, to you, to let you be cautious that we needed forever!

Tomorrow would be another day.

Continuously learning to be learnt, of why you said yes, rather than No.

But men, just pause…

Last night, we discovered a something!

Of splitting it into two, each carried by the other, split into always and forever!

Today, was our always!

Always of never being apart!

Tomorrow was ours, forever!

Forever of always being together!

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No…

I wouldn’t want to say no, not next to you.

Even as your hair drops majestically down your shoulders, it’d still be impossible.

A quick stolen glance towards your flickering dazed eyes, I just wouldn’t ever.

Beautiful, is the word, still injustice is done by its usage.

Battling with a brittle smile, your tenuous lips curve upwards as if to torment.

Dragging out the inner-most dying sparks, ready to ignite a soul yearning.

The world knew, a lot of your smiles in deep seasons, but knew nothing of your tears in light seasons.

So life thought it funny, if I sat across the room, leaving chunks of traces.

Enough for me to relinquish each no,

You see, it was all in the yeses, never the nos.

You see, it was all in the second wind, never the first wind.

So before I say my no, let me run,

Fast enough on the first wind to catch the second!

All the pain that comes with it, being ready is paramount.

The stronger I’ll get, the gentler the no will be.

You’ll hear the glorified No, but never understand the sacrifice behind it.

Maybe we both needed it, to make a difference in this Life, separately.

Living in a corrupted world that led us to believe, captured us by faith.

Always waiting for something from an outside pool, just to be happy!

You’ll be broken, I’ll be limping, and we’ll teach each other how to live.

After that No!

Sometimes being away is our sole responsibility, great things always tend to happen,

Eventually!

No

I Think I’ve Grown Up

I think I’ve grown up, when I start appreciating the warm nights more.

I think I’ve grown up; I no longer have to surge vehemently to watch mid-afternoon cartoons.

I think I’ve grown up; today I woke faster than my alarm, so I don’t need it anymore.

I think I’ve grown up; I no longer have to be sat down just to read an excerpt from a newspaper.

I think I’ve grown up, when I stride past a shop resisting the urge to dig in my pocket for a coin, to buy that juicy cola.

I think I’ve grown up; yesterday I took out the trash in my own accord. Who knew?

I think I’ve grown up, tomorrow is Friday, and my only plan is reading the freshly bought thriller romance novel.

I think I’ve grown up.

I think I’ve grown up, asubuhi ya Leo, I had my first cup of dark coffee. Who would have thought?

I think I’ve grown up, every morning as I tighten that tie perfectly tied around my shirt collar,

I think I’ve grown up, kila jioni, rushing home, occasionally stopping for a firm gripping-hand shake.

I think I’ve grown up, offering critical solutions amidst calamity in pressure-infested environments.

I think I’ve grown up; I no longer tolerate relations of no immediate or longer-period importance.

I think I’ve grown up, when I started counting the number of times a friend was there rather than the number of friends that are there.

I think I’ve grown up, ready now to take on opportunities, because I’ve been in preparation.

I think I’ve grown up.

I think I’ve grown up, leaving behind childhood actions.

I think I’ve grown up, last week I settled all my financial bills, growing up huh.

I think I’ve grown up, stopped beating myself up and actually changed my thoughts.

I think I’ve grown up, indulging in constructive conversations, no small talks.

I think I’ve grown up, drawing closer minds in, ones that see far beyond.

I think I’ve grown up, I do understand not all actions towards self needs a reaction from self.

I think I’ve grown up, after embracing the sensitivity of my nature, yet never allow to be taken for granted.

I think I’ve grown up.

I think I’ve grown up, as I sit, every day, behind the desk, ruthlessly demolishing set responsibilities.

I think I’ve grown up, finally giving credence to monsters existing, being a monster, and letting them win.

I think I’ve grown up, knowing everything will be okay, eventually!

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