Entry of a Solitary Soul

When things around went the way we never wished them to be, where would we run to in a world where everything seemed a solitary confinement?

Sheira slowly opened her teary eyes as a new day unfolded. It was a silent Sunday- as usual, like the past melancholic days of her existence. Suddenly, a flash of light brought vivid pictures in her imaginations that filled the corners of her mind.

“Dad, uhm… can we talk for a…”

“I have no time! Can’t you see I’m busy? You want to see your mother? Go and live together with her just another bastard husband!”

Her father exclaimed in the fang of anger. “Besides, you’re old enough!”

That was a year ago. She hugged herself. The coldness of the wind made her realize that she was all alone. Her thoughts began to explore the fantasies that slowly invades her world..

It was almost eight in the morning when she left the house and  hopelessness broke her heart. She doesn’t have the idea about her destination but as she turned her car to the seventh street, it came to a pause.

“You are not supposed to be here.” A familiar voice that whispered in her ears awakened her occupied thoughts. Sadly, the whisper was only on her mind. She was sure because no one was around for she could see now that she was in the middle of an abandoned street where she used to play in her childhood years. It was a almost a mile away from her city and she wondered how she arrived without her senses. She was now feeling confused that for a while she lacked the ability to distinguish real from fantasy.

“Yeah, you are not supposed to be here. You are no longer my friend! Besides, I know you don’t know how to please me. In fact, I have a friend better than you!”

Those were the words of a childhood acquaintance. Another thing that weigh her down and she could feel that the burden on her back would likely sink her lower than the grave.

Having no reasons to stay amidst the sun-scorched area, she continued her journey until she noticed a small snack bar operating in a distance.

“Come!” Another voice mesmerized her soul to go.

“But where am I?” She shouted but sad to say, it was just her voice that broke the silence. Just like always, she was all alone- in her world.

It was noon when she found herself inside the dark shack bar. She ordered a glass of vodka that the bartenders silently were made confused. The dark atmosphere of the bar denied the prevailing heat outside the desert- like area, just like the dark times she is facing right now that has overshadowed all the passion about the things of life that she once have. For her, all things changed a lot. She has been left behind and it seems she doesn’t exist. Does anybody hear her? They know not what she feels and if they do, her aches were not theirs to feel. Her troubles were not theirs to worry. Despite the fact that the room was filled with a number of people, she felt completely alone, having done sipping a glass of liquor.

“Hi! Are you alright?” A man’s voice finally offered companionship. He was tall and dark complexion suits him.

She couldn’t help herself. She wanted to nod pretending she’s alright but tears unexpectedly escaped her eyes. The man, without hesitations offered to dry her tears.

“Come on, miss uh… beautiful lady, it’s just alright to pour out your feelings. Besides, here I am listening.” The guy simply grinned.

“It’s Sheira… My name…” She blunted and still attempted to speak plainly out of her voice’s brokenness.

“What a pretty name for a sad woman… “The guy’s gesture changed abruptly.

“Come on, shall we dance and talk?” He invited.

For the first time, she let herself smile.

After a while, she found a fortress and so for a momentary lapse of reason, she gave in to her thoughts. He gazed into her pale blue eyes as she made herself comfortable in his embrace. She finally found shelter and affection that she neither found at home nor elsewhere in the world. She wished the feelings would not stop for she felt secured in the arms of a stranger. How she longed for that peace, the attention, that feeling of invulnerability and assurance. She leaned closely on his chest and discerned the beating of his heart. She had someone to save her evil day.

“Sorry, I have to go… “The guy muttered after a series of hearty discourse that lasted only for hours as his voice slowly faded among the crowd.

“Please don’t! I need you!” She shouted, but then again, it was not her mouth but her mind’s language.

She went into the car and drove back into the city. It was three in the afternoon when she stopped the car. Upon noticing a group of modestly- dressed women laughing merrily as each holding a book, her curious eyes followed their way. It takes a few steps when she found out that they gotten inside a church, where she is now a few meters away. Quite hesitant upon seeing her immodesty, she left her wandering thoughts. The burdens she carried blocked her way to the house of God. She was stunned!

“We live in a land that is overshadowed by darkness and death. This world slowly without notice is coming to an end. There is no future for the lost…” She overheard the minister’s voice. She did not wait to hear the following words and decided to walk away.

“There is no place in this world where I belong.” She sadly said to herself as she attempted to hold the tears back. However, the attempt was a failure.

She went back to her car and sped away to her bungalow on the fifth street. Amidst a number of ordeals, she buried herself to sleep as thoughts of living drifted away from her mind. She has come to a conclusion. She accepted the way things are. She accepted herself.

Lost.  Hopeless.  Alone.


When Feathers Fall

As sure as seconds slip in the twinkling of an eye,
so sure is the change that binds a person’s heart.

I realized the idea of constructing walls before relationships the very moment as words that borders on the edge of slight spurning that was carefully withheld, escape those alluring, scarlet-pale lips. I looked her in the eyes with my hands slowly being crossed, nearly touching the lower part of my jaw following the placement of my elbows as if trying to withdraw from dangling on the edge of the table. Her eyes, yes, those beautifully crafted lids suddenly shift their gazed in the direction of the window in a manner that I can easily read the carried gestures and their implications.

I have no other means of keeping the atmosphere warm so I merely followed her gaze only to notice that this young woman, whom I dearly loved for several years is simply losing the love she had for me. I tried to smile, but some kind of a strange pain suddenly inflicted my chest, in succession of the feeling that the flow of time had stopped in a moment.

There was a biting silence and I saw my heart metaphorically fall and broke into tiny pieces. As the fragments scattered, I uttered some stuttering words to excused myself.

As I was about to stand, her soft, slender hands suddenly reached out for the hem of my shirt. I was surprised as her action was unprecedented so I turned back and glanced at her countenance. It was bright. She was smiling.

A series of confusion roamed the vicinity of my mind. “Hey! How about we watch the movie?” She broke the awkward circumstance. My reasoning dictates that she’s quite insensitive but I found it a real nonsense to dwell on these messy thoughts.

She stood and hold my shoulder in an attempt to push me towards the next scenario. I was able to turned back at her, seeing the response was a gentle smile. Oh! That cunning sweetness radiating from an angel, and then in consequence she uttered some indistinct “lalala” rhythms. I don’t know why I simply nod when at the back of my mind, I was desperately shouting for a personal time to garner the overall situation and decide the defense mechanism I was going to rely on with regards on the perspective of a shattered heart.

Am I a fool? Or have I lost the sanity that makes me over-think things? The instance of time draw the distance in a wild pace. These turned of events are too much for me to handle.

“Well, it’s just that I think I’m not ready yet for a relationship. I’m sorry but for now, I think I need to give my heart to my family and my academics.” She must have noticed that I was losing the grasp of reality in coherence to the seconds I was staring into space.

In the midst of the movie, the large, dark theater we’re in somehow provided some consolation. I looked in her eyes that was about to scream. She clung on my arms in a girly fashion in respond to the genre of the movie. “She’s but a child.. and innocent.”

She never directly told me that I need to stop the efforts I’m investing in but of course I do believe that it was all for the sake of consideration of my feelings. I applauded the insight and felt relieved. It’s time to move on.

 © Cyrustale 2014.

Once Upon a Metaphor

We all love to fantasize. A simple idea circled our brain giving birth to different streams of thought until a connection and pattern emerges and the idea evolves into either a mystical character, machine, culture, language or even a new world. After that, books came into existence, and an unlimited supply of awe and wonder continues to thrill the curious minds—and the cycle goes on.

However, as marvelous as the process may seem, most pieces of knowledge usually begins with “a lump in the throat” as quoted by Robert Frost. There are times when an author find it hard to start the piece, either by looking for the perfect words, rhymes or rhythms to use, or as a result of lack of words, found it better to use figures of speech as a means to illustrate or exaggerate a situation.

Furthermore, since the beginning of time, our ancestors used parables, myths and fables to explain the origin of mankind, describe the indescribable and fascinate the younger minds. We all live in a story-stricken world where plain words are just not enough to communicate a thought or feeling. We need to play with words and this is where I begin to recollect some important memories.

I remember when I was an elementary student questioning myself as to why we need to learn about those figures of speech but as I grow older, I realized that using those makes the explanations of things easier. When I reached high school, I was amused when the topic is about idioms and decided to study these literary devices.

I started simply with simile as it basically is a comparison between two similar things connected by using the word ‘like’ or ‘as’ such as making the softness of clouds the softness of things of the same nature. Next, metaphors grow into shape as it did become an apple to my eyes and a key to vast world of poetry.

It was in third year of high school when I started creating my first poem blended with figures of speech entitled, “Brokenhearted,” a poem by which my choice of words clearly unveiled the shadow of Edgar Allan Poe’s melancholy. Thanks to my best friend, Keith that I was able to realize what a great world poetry was and the perfect place for my escape where I could spend my “me time” wholeheartedly. I could say that even right now, my journey with words has not yet reached its peak and yet, my spirit felt a heavenly bliss.

After some experiments with metaphors, I stumbled upon a new concept that covers an analogical representation of expression. It is the extended form of metaphor–Allegory! This happened when I first discovered the treasures left behind by C.S. Lewis who penned “Narnia” and John Bunyan of the “Pilgrim’s Progress.” Until then, the wind has never been the same.

Sometime later, I met a personified glimpse of love, and the feeling was so great that I can’t contain it. Good thing though that words are good containers of feeling and I found myself in that room where I was able to spread such feelings. In that place, moments are captured in stillness, time is forever frozen, love is always young and at the same time, sorrows are shrouded, and hearts are often wounded. Poetry provides wings when one learn the secrets of the metaphor. There’s a vast universe out there where worlds collide at the tip of the writer’s pen.

Though no one would be able to fully comprehend the pieces that I carefully weaved, I know someone will, someday. Someone who will discover the treasure map I hid behind the cryptic words of allegorical expression–of what I really meant beyond the narration. Someone who will see the different facets of a striving poet, a “noobgrammer” and an enthusiast who dreamed of nothing but for fancy to embody itself, shedding truth beyond the flavors of mystic coating.
– Cyrustale 「サイルステール」 2016