the late-night roof philosophy

I love the fact that i love sitting here in the dark, at the roof. The quiet and the dark give me peace. The feeling of warm ceramics on my heels. I love the way i can hear the crickets and a hint of the television downstairs. It makes me feel home and at the same time faraway for adventure with my own thoughts. The sky now is amazing. I can see the clouds on navy sky. And some stars. I love seeing the shadow of the leaves from the garden lights on the wall. I am able to just observe my mind wander, and see the stars. Ive always loved the night sky. And moon. And clouds. And stars.

The stars; i know why poets and storytellers write about them. It is when you are alone and staring at the sky from your roof, and feel everything else dissapear. If you tilt your head a little, it's as if your neighbors' roofs dissapear. And suddenly it's only you and the sky. And you get this strange feeling as if you look into a whole future, or the whole past; it's like staring at a whole eternity.


words out of rain

i remember on one rainy day, under a dim window light and the smell of wet soil there were words that i conscientiously wrote for you with the hell and heaven from my veins. i remember how i hoped and closed my eyes at the end of each sentence and my eyelashes fell onto the paper and i secretly made wishes on them. i remember how each word tasted like home and how the spaces between words felt like a place to stay.

but then all of sudden the rain stopped and the smell of wet soil was gone and i spent quite some aching time wondering why and where they'd gone or whether they were even really there because i have always felt like they were watching me like a trusted friend when i was writing words about you.

it was only when i stopped questioning i suddenly heard there was a strange music in melody i oddly felt familiar with it seemed like calling me from places that are close to my soul.

so i tossed those words to a passing boat that was sailing to the ocean. they said it went to one of those floating old libraries at sea and would never come back.