threads

what connections do we make in life?
what life is rendering; the making of bonds?
how we begin and sustain relationships?
when does a chance meeting begin immortal love?
how best friends, never again meet for life?

a letter written on a sultry summer night,
lies forgotten in a trunk, full of mothball odor.
the regret however is never shown in person,
the past somehow remembered as a blessing.

an old man selling out old junk, finds a carton,
in his loneliness a tear escapes.
he sifts through the photos and letters,
and life is stronger in the aftermath, a little...

a two year old sister carries her new born brother around,
as they grow old, they teach each other the world.
far or together, their love will only ever grow stronger,
always their lovers will be jealous of the bond they share.

why do blood relations remain so pure? or not?

the son of a dead man, who now is a man himself,
judges his father's life, in the tears of happiness people still have for him.
the man spent all his life, giving laughter and happiness,
the son can never maybe understand his peace.

gone are the days when connectivity was a blessing,
where people waited for any information, patiently for days.
now, in these 'seconds' of instant gratification,
restless desires have given in to much impatience.

lovers, long apart, fight and argue each day over the phone,
when in the same city, rate ego higher than affection,
and don't even call... and sulk and long.
but in a moment of magic, all is well, maybe momentarily.

acquaintances fall in love, is it capricious?
beauty is found where there was nothing before,
whatsapp messages makes your heart skip a beat,
but just a while ago, they used to be from somebody else.

two people meet and sparks fly all around,
they consummate and cherish and paint the town.
two people 'invest' in each other their time,
they live and love and bond and die.

i keep making new connections, never possible before...
but is this who i really am?
is the answer a grimmer reality or a happy illusion??
how can i bare my soul to but only one,
to connect, to love.

somehow, the truth is not waiting to be answered...

i bare my soul only to myself.

a constructor of worlds

Architecture and war are not incompatible. Architecture is war. War is architecture.

I am at war with my time, with history, with all authority that resides in fixed and frightened forms.

I am one of millions who do not fit in, who have no home, no family, no doctrine, no firm place to call my own, no known beginning or end, no "sacred and primordial site."

I declare war on all icons and finalities, on all histories that would chain me with my own falseness, my own pitiful fears. I know only moments, and lifetimes that are as moments, and forms that appear with infinite strength, then "melt into air."

I am an architect, a constructor of worlds, a sensualist who worships the flesh, the melody, a silhouette against the darkening sky. I cannot know your name. Nor you can know mine.

Tomorrow, we begin together the construction of a city.

from: War and Architecture by Lebbeus Woods(1940-2012)

The EARTH is my TEMPLE..

source: Earth 2012 by Vollstad Wallpapers

Trumspringa

by kcdsTM

TRUMSPRINGA: n. The temptation to step off your career track and become a shepherd in the mountains, watching storms at dusk from the doorway of a small cabin, just the kind of hypnotic diversion that allows your thoughts to make a break for it and wander back to their cubicles in the city. (source: unknown)

                            Lightning at Dusk by Philip Schexnayder

honour

You dont hold a corner with one hand...
You hold a side with two.

chores

Not just the will.
We need DISCIPLINE to live the good life.

first seen at a hostel room wall

To see a world in a grain of sand
and a heaven in a wild flower,
hold infinity in the palm of your hand 
and eternity in an hour.

                          
                                    ~ William Blake