Snippet Series #12: [Untitled]

Move in the realm of endless reality

To drown in a dream I never knew began.

Sink into the silk of time and space

And ride the wave of a stand still.

Nonsense overwhelms and engulfs

The threadbare lucidity of blindfolded existence –

A song is produced, a symphony that transcends

The logic of mind and physical body.

All that I’ve ever known cascades into bright oblivion,

And an enlightenment kisses my soul.

I lose form and melt into the breath of the universe,

Becoming one with a truth I could not before bare.

Wrote this way back in third year high school. Aya told me to post it before, but I only really thought of doing it now. I was basically trying to mimic what dreams felt like for me, in a way.


The Parable of the Covenant

Happy Resurrection Sunday!

I still think this needs a LOT of editing, but I’ll probably make a 2.0 in the future. (I might make a 2.0 series, actually. There’s so much I still want to edit HAHA).




You set the world into motion

And rocked my heart from its stillness

You were the murmur

That called me from the lull of the dust


You promised me a future like the stars

And it put lights in my eyes

I left my mother and father to join You

And begin our Story together


I was the least of my brothers

But in my weakness, You are strong

You delivered bounty in time of meagerness

Until man’s heart worked me for gluttony


Then You put a sea between me and those who owned me

And gave me freedom in claiming me as Yours

You wrote Your love for me

To abide in in a home of milk and honey


I celebrated and studied Your enchanting world

I rejoiced in the richness of the earth

And the possibilities of wealth and new things

But in relishing it, You faded into the background


I replaced You with Your gifts

Forgetting past and future, my side of our vow

I struck out, wanting what was already ours

So my vanities consumed me but did not satisfy


I threw my voice into the cacophony around me

And grew deaf to You

You offered Your hand and Your mercies

But I’d slid out of reach and numbed to tenderness


All the while staying Your disappointment,

You sent messengers, until You had to send soldiers

I was snatched away,

And my pride was broken, apart from You


In my suffering, I glimpsed who You are

And realized who I was in You

And I dreamt of You, of home

And persevered with what I had left of You


You championed my release from my own trap,

And we rebuilt our house

I knew now that I wanted none other than You

And I would make sure our children knew the same




I meted out Your words

And measured my neighbor by them

I sterilized my habits and refused to reconsider

I nitpicked the complexities of Your desires


I became haughty and self-assured of Your favor

I obsessed over the power of being Yours

I colored the light of Your heart with my black desires

And the old me snuck under the sheepskin of restoration


I misunderstood You

So You became like me so that I could know You

Your servants recognized you and rejoiced

But Your lover never noticed


Yet You told stories anyway

And touched my sores and opened my eyes

Your presence filled the loneliness

In the gaps between me and You


You were unafraid of upturning tables

So that disparities could be levelled

You did not hesitate to disturb my tranquility

To give me true peace


You clothe the lily and feed the birds,

Quench my thirst in this desert,

And sustain me through Your word,

Just like five thousand others


But I kept seeing You for something else –

I insisted on what I thought I knew about You

The self You were showing me

Was unlike anything I’d known before


Your words were mysteries – but Your voice, truth;

Though I hardly realized it

Through patience, despite hurt and anger

You pulled me from paralysis to stand beside You


But I left You

I ran away when they came for You

I denied You

As many times as You would ask if I loved You


I laughed while they hoisted You up in suffering

I went back to business when You let go

And my hopeful fervor went with You

“Appears there’s nothing more there.”


And then you proved me wrong.

You did the impossible –

You came back to me

Despite all that was done to You


Your truth struck down to my rawness,

Your love clarified my murky sight,

Your will surpassed my expectation,

And Your embrace liberated me


Now You break the dawn and

Cast me blazing into the shadows,

Running over them in bounding leaps,

And shaking off their hold on me


My voice will carry melodies for You,

And my heart will carry crosses.

My shoulders will carry leaders,

And my arms will carry the broken.


My mind will sanctify in truth,

And my feet will crush injustices.

My hands will plant seeds,

And my legs will cross earths.


Every part of me is Yours –

And even if the Spirit of You holds me,

Past the faltering and stumbling,

The whole of me aches for the final day


The day Your vow will be completed –

And I will be completed in my purpose,

Completed in love unbound by flesh and blood,

Completed in You.


It’s easy to let yourself go on a roller coaster ride of emotions if it makes sense.

Someone you love passed away? Cry it out. An injustice was done to you? Scream and fight. You failed? Let yourself wallow in self-pity. Just met the boy of your dreams? Spin around in circles of joy.

But what about if the feelings don’t make sense? You just had the best day of your life and you feel sad. Someone hasn’t been treating you right, and you worry for the other person. You just underwent the most grueling experience you’ve had in a while, and you feel nothing. Or justice has been served and you got what you understood you’d get… and then you leave the room with a trembling lip and the serious need to go to the girl’s room and cry.

And, particular in the last case, the sane part of you is scolding the other side of you. “Grow up.” “You’re being irrational.” “Nothing bad even happened.” “You’re wasting your tears.” “Doing this will gain you nothing.” “This isn’t you.” “How are you going to get through life if this keeps happening?”

Yeah, okay. We’re human. We are emotional beings. Emotions are important. Emotions are beautiful, and meaningful. But in this fragile little case of spontaneous shallowness, where is the meaning?

I kept asking myself that as I kept my head down and dashed to the washroom – as if it might make a difference in keeping the tears at bay. I couldn’t believe I was even crying. I had my heart broken and I didn’t even shed a tear. I’ve undergone worse pressures and looked at failure and judgment straight in the eye and I didn’t cry then. I’ve had consecutive bad days and endless frustrations, and I still kept smiling, laughing and keeping on. What made now so much different?

I didn’t want to be “that girl” who people see crying and then wonder about – “Is she okay?” “Should I approach her?” “Does she need to talk anything out?” Because I have nothing the fudge to say. And I have nothing the fudge to even be legitimately upset about.

And I fear it’s going to keep getting worse. I’ve been like this kinda recently. I don’t even know what the matter is. I miss the calm and the quiet and the stillness. I wonder if it’s hormones. I wonder if it’s generally lack of discipline. I wonder if it’s me being taken out of the rational waters I swam and flourished in for four years. Is it social influence? Or have I been reading too many overly dramatic Facebook posts from people who I know act like this?

There used to be sanctity in my mind. The world would be full of drama and emotions and unnecessary complications. I was the safe zone. I was the little corner of reality that made sense and could keep still and could look at things coolly, wholly, objectively. Detachedly. There were no weird strings that were being tugged in weird directions by weird cogs. That seems to be changing. And I fear I may then lose my independence. And I fear I may then become lonely. And I fear it might stay that way.

Ma Cherie Part I

This is an EDITED excerpt of a letter I wrote to a friend for her birthday. I know I may sound didactic, but I really think this is one of the most inspiring things I’ve ever told anyone.

Ma Cherie,

So you’re 18. Actually, you turned 18 exactly two weeks ago. So I’m having a civil war in my head about whether to still greet you or not (actually, it would be considered more like a quaint little skirmish, almost just a quarrel). Whatever. The point is, I’m wishing you well.

And it doesn’t even have to be your birthday for me to wish you well. Know that every day (well, almost) I pray for you. I pray for your well-being, for your sanity (lol), but most especially, I pray for your happiness.

I know you seek to be happy. Don’t we all? Isn’t that human? And maybe sometimes you don’t know where to begin looking, and maybe the fact that you don’t know where to begin looking might make you question if happiness can be found at all, and if it even exists. It’s also possible for you to wonder if it’s worth all the trouble to go chasing after it. Or I dunno, maybe that’s just me.

But however you choose to see the pursuit of happiness, I’m sure you’ll find it. Call me foolishly optimistic, but I believe there is happiness to be found in everything, just as there is sadness to be found in everything. I don’t want you to ignore the pain that this world has. I want you to face it and come to terms with it. It’s a wolf that never goes away. It’s cunning, and brutal, and powerful. But it can be understood. And if you understand this wolf, you will learn how to live with it without letting it bite you or destroy what you love. Sort of like man and nature learning how to live as one (yes, all that zen). Accept and cherish the wisdom and even the good things it brings (because even wolves exist for a reason), but rebel against the dominion it wishes to cast on you. It is a free entity you cannot control. And you are a free entity it cannot control.

Consider yourself blessed, because you are faced with the opportunity to understand this wolf more closely than many others could ever hope to (myself included). Furthermore, you’d be able to teach others how to understand it, and how to not seek control nor be controlled by it.

Do not fear it. Do not build high walls to keep it out – because that keeps the sunshine out, too. Do not set traps and surround yourself with spears – that keeps the bunnies out, too. Train yourself and strengthen yourself so that when it does come, you can wrestle it with your own two hands, the same hands that bathe in the sunlight, the same hands that caress a newborn bunny.

Do not seek to destroy it, or the cave where it lies. Caves are caves. They can house wolves, or they can house gold, or they can house both at the same time. They are a medium. Sometimes they change residents. You need to think of people that way. And you must also understand that harboring wolves is no easy task. Maybe once you understand the movements of the wolves you can help the cave free itself of the wolves, and maybe kinder life will find a home in it.

Now, in spite of everything, when the wolf comes in the dead of night, and I say when because it really will happen, and you feel its teeth sinking in and your legs are paralyzed, I want you to remember that you are free. It has no right to control you. When it sees the solid determination in your eyes, it’ll release you, and leave you.

What Happened?

I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a storm

I’m shouting at the windows and you won’t even take the earphones out.

But I don’t want to knock on your door

Because I know that with one swift movement

Your playing cards house will founder

And you’d be under its weight even more

Than you were when you let the roof lay on the back of your head

And mold your spine like a wilted flower.

“What’s wrong with you?!”

I want to scream it until my lungs are raw

Until I’ve got no voice left

And even then, scream in silence with my coarse lips

And begging eyes

You used to be such sweet sunshine

What happened?


What happened? I see you and I want to cry. Just traces of you means wounds for me. I said I didn’t care. But I was just tired. I was so, so tired. But I’m pretty sure you’re tired of hoping that I still did care. I’m sorry.

You’ve been like that ever since we parted ways. I can’t help but feel guilty. I feel like I could have taken you with me. I could have taken care of you until you could stand up on your own.

“I won’t always be here to catch you when you fall.”

I was telling you to be careful. You weren’t. Yes, every inch of this tapestry of pain was stitched into your skin by your own hands. But I could have pulled the barbed wire thread away from you. If only I wasn’t too proud to care. Now I have to endure the sting of seeing you sewn like such wreckage, unable to undo each ravaged suture because that would tear everything apart again. And so you keep on stabbing, and looping, and pulling, like a mindless machine left to run until it breaks down, because the spool of wire just won’t quit retching.

But seriously, what happened to you?

And more importantly, what will it take to save you?

I want to break away and save you. Do something I know is impossible. Just show up at your quadrangle or something and kidnap you. Take your hand and never let you go again, no matter the cost of that. No questions asked. No hesitation of “what next?” No fears of “this is so incredibly impractical. My parents will have my head for this.” Give you part of my life – because there’s way too much joy here for me alone, and knowing that you have none and I just can’t give any of mine to you just makes it miserable.

I wish I could keep you. Wipe away the tears at night, fight by your side during the day, make sure you know you have something to wake up to. If only I had the power to pluck you from your situation right now… protect you from the black vines you’ve allowed to grow around you, wrap around you like a boa, like death.

Dear God, why can’t it be that easy?

You’re just so far away. And even if you were near, you still wouldn’t hear me. You still wouldn’t listen. I’m just praying that right now the music in your earphones is playing too loud for you to take – and that just wakes you up enough for you to throw them off. And then maybe, if you haven’t deafened yourself yet, just maybe you’d hear me. I’m praying with all I’ve got that you’d hear me.

Day 8 – Looks Like A Hurricane Passed By…

For today’s prompt, we had to re-write a famous poem and make it our own. So here’s my take on Silverstein’s Messy Room, which I decided to include below.


Whose pad is this? Dang, it’s shameful!

Her towel’s reaching for the floor

Like a dangling bungee-jumper.

An ambitious two-year old to-do list is still taped

To the wall beside the never-made mattress,

Still half-finished.

Wires snake on the laundry-lined wooden floor–

You sure it’s wood?–

Reminiscent of the monster ivies of horror shows

Just waiting for the opportune moment

To curl and pull you down to a blue bruise

You’d soon make origin legends of.

Stacks upon stacks of–

What are these, books, flyers?

All the kinds of crumpled publications in between–

Teeter on uneven tables and maybe-tables.

Dang, you’d think she lives in a friggin’ warehouse,

The kind you see on Storage Wars

Wait, no, more like American Pickers.

This place would give any OC mother a heart attack

I can hear the high-pitched nags already–

“Kim! Clean your room!”

What? Oh, wait.

Well, that explains the cozy feel to this place.


Messy Room

By Shel Silverstein


Whosever room this is should be ashamed!

His underwear is hanging on the lamp.

His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,

And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.

His workbook is wedged in the window,

His sweater’s been thrown on the floor.

His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,

And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.

His books are all jammed in the closet,

His vest has been left in the hall.

A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,

And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!

Donald or Robert or Willie or–

Huh? You say it’s mine? Oh, dear,

I knew it looked familiar!

Day 6 – The Summer Hermit

An example of what it would be like to be a grumpy old curmudgeon living in a condominium unit with a view of the pool.


Palm trees,

Barely a year old,

Hover tall among the sunbathers,

Nearly as bold.

There’s close-cut grass

Browning in the sun–

Still greener than this concrete jungle, though.

Drenched clothes

(That shouldn’t be allowed in the pool!)

Cling translucently tight to their hosts’ forms

As they splosh around in slippery flip-flops,

Leaving wet criss-crossed trails to the rest houses.

A girl’s hitting her head

To get the water out her ears

She’s jumping as she does it–

Looks almost like she’s dancing–Ha!

There’s a boy wiping his face,

Trying to get the water out of his eyes

(As if he’ll ever get the water out of his eyes).

A group of noisy college kids

Grapple with each other

On one of the benches–

The miracle of how they all fit–

To find the position for the perfect group selfie.

The whole bunch of them giggle and scream;

Somehow the couple in the corner stays kissing,


Unlike the constantly splashing water.

It’s summer outside.

I can hear its breeze calling.

I shut the window.