What’s left of that love,
are shadows in my coffee,
the stain holds my heart.
I started working on a new blog recently with a friend of mine. I will share details about this joint project at a later date. But while working on this new project, choosing its theme and customising it, I realised that my loskop blog is starting to look a little dated.
The old theme was TwentyTen (that’s a decade old, yikes!). The sidebars still contained my dormant social media links, and the links to the blogs I follow are so old, I do not even know whether the blogs they point to still exist.
I had thought about updating it, passively, for some time, but the decision was made for me when I tried a theme and realised that I cannot go back to the old one. It was a scramble yesterday trying to re-instate things that are important and doing away with some of the dormant clutter. I hope the result was worth it.
I have also updated my static pages, which have gone through only one light tweak in ten years. It is scary to think that I have been writing here (on and off) for ten years. Some of my material predates even my WordPress presence, and was imported from other blogging platforms.
I keep the older stuff for sentimental reasons and to look at the evolution in my personality and writing. But if I had the time I should probably rethink the mess of categories and tags, and plunge into organising things some more. For now, however, I will try to organise as I go forward, while the back-stories remain available on the Archive Page, until I take a closer look at them and decide what to do.
Thank you for staying with me, and I hope you visit again for more thought-provoking posts
Your online status Its 'Available' mocks me, to me? surely not. But I wouldn't care if I knew you were present for some who will cry. Those souls will not mind, if you leave all the deadlines behind, when you die.
A split second glimpse
shatters my outward resolve
My soul is still yours !
I see it is you,
less with my senses but more
in my every cell
My heartache revives,
for a brief chance encounter
a lifetime of loss.
Don’t tell me how I should love, and how I shouldn’t.
Don’t seek my love then reject its frank expression.
Don’t tell me I should love the postman instead.
My heart will never be yours to command, when it never even listens to my honest pleas.
Love is a master like no other, defies the free will of mortals.
Love falls, like death, like fate..
And wherever it casts its shadow, no blade of grass will grow.
I am just a watcher in the semi-dark, waiting out this endless eclipse.
Love wouldn’t be true if it was given in exchange or expectation of anything in return. To love is to give of yourself freely and generously, not expecting even to be loved in return.
For your eyes what my heart suffered and what it will,
And for love what is left of me and what is gone.
I have never been one to let love into my heart,
But whoever gazes into your eyes can’t help the fall.
Adapted from a poem by the Arabic poet Al-Mutanabbi:
لعينيك ما يلقى الفؤاد وما لقي
وللحب ما لم يبق منى وما بقي
وما كنت ممن يدخل الحب قلبه
.ولكن من يبصر جفونك يعشق
Though it is hard. All gifts are temporary. I unwillingly surrender this one. And thank you for it. God. Or world. Whoever it was gave it to me, I humbly thank you, and pray that I did right by him, and may, as I go ahead, continue to do right by him.
Love, love, I know what you are.
Excerpt From: “Lincoln in the Bardo: WINNER OF THE MAN BOOKER PRIZE 2017” by George Saunders. Scribd.
This material may be protected by copyright.
Read this book on Scribd: https://www.scribd.com/book/334747443
Tell me to get lost.
Say you’re fed up , and mean it!
Teach your eyes to lie.
Don’t love me mutely,
I can handle rejection,
Not this furtive love.
I am with the pain
It holds me like a lover
then bleeds from my eyes.