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Lumos Solem: A Child’s Game

Lumos Solem: A Child’s Game

Lumos Solem: A Child’s Game

I used to raise a hand towards the tiny openings of an old wooden platform, face my palm straight towards the ray of 7:30 AM sunlight, and watch the back of my hand luminously glow in crimsoned red as I feel the warm wave of heat where morning dust particles arouse in the air.

I used to listen to the most silent form of silence and get amazed by the awkward monotonous buzz that I hear drilling through the inner lobe of my ears.

I used to get amazed by my own heartbeat, and would suddenly remember that I just forgot that I was breathing.  Then it amazed me once again.

I used to step out in the patio right after the rain and enjoy the smell of petrichor arousing in the air.

I used to stare at thin air, and question why I cannot see the air.

I used to watch flowers very closely and imagine Thumbelina tucked up among the buds.

I used to look for tiny little mushrooms that grow on damped woods where orchids used to flourish, look for dwarfs, and pretend that I was Snow White.

I used to wonder how worms hide beneath the soil and still can breathe.

I used to believe that if I hide my face behind a wall, the rest of my body would be invisible.

I used to wish to have superpowers as I used to play pretend that I could move objects and start a fire through mental telepathy.

I used to run as fast as I can towards my bed upon switching the lights off in the fear that demons will run after me.

I used to believe that the scariest task a child was ever obliged to do was to go upstairs alone in the night.  Watching the stairs itself used to freak me out.

I used to believe that the scariest part in my room was underneath my bed where nighttime crawlies awaken after midnight.

I used to imagine that my whole family was being killed and that I was next everytime I hear thumps while I was taking a shower.

At times I used to wake up late and that the hallways and stairs were silent, I used to believe that I was already dead and that I was walking in the ghost realm.  Then I would start looking for my own dead body as I try to remember as much as I can on how I possibly died.

I used to own a Jane doll, a big walking porcelain doll, the prettiest among my dolls yet, which face I used to place down flat on a pillow and cover with used clothes before going to bed for her eyes used to freak me out everytime I get awaken in the middle of night.

I used to play with Donald and Mickey, and never realized that one day, they will become leaders in the US.

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Posted by on March 24, 2017 in Lyrics of Life

 

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The Heart Of The World Draws The Most Imperfect Lines!

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WHO DRAWS THE FINE LINE between right and wrong?  Who defines what’s accepted from what’s not?  Who makes it rational or otherwise?  Hearing it seventy-seven times — love conquers everything — yet, does it?

A HUMAN HEART IS AS BIG as one’s fist, pumping the river of humanity as it sinks down all emotions.  Should love be so perfect, then only feelings so perfect we just deserve.  Yet, why does the heart entertain odd feelings then finds it difficult to withdraw?  Why does the truth shout in taking its turn then heck the rest of the world?  Why does the heart struggle everyday in taking a park when all it wants to do is to cross the bridge?  If rules are set for standards, then why are they so not amiable?

TIME KEEPS COLLAPSING in every corner of my hands as it keeps on drawing its line, going further from my reach.  For rules are too perfect to mention as too pierceable to obey.  Like black and white, so definite, it would be a glaring truth.  With two-folds of humanity, it runs through a river flowing in two very different directions, and every flow has its own new story. What would it take to doubt in taking the turn when all the odds voted yes?  What would it cost to raft down the river when the tide goes the opposite?

I KNOW IT’S QUITE ODD for this life may not be ours and there may not be any other way to reverse it.  Yet, should faith still beat the odds, then hope is what it’s going to have.  If I just have the heart of the world, I could have repainted all the drawn lines to give way to imperfections; but then again, it will just take one true believer.

 
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Posted by on February 25, 2016 in Lyrics of Life

 

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