Three Words

One wrong move. Just three words. Uttered with resignation and frustration. Often tinged with the futility of regret.

To be followed by three more words.

I should have........
I should have been wiser. I should have seen it coming. I should have known. I should have thought about it.

Usually linked to three fatal words.

It's too late.......
Too late to love. Too late to recoup losses. Too late to reconcile. Too late to undo.

Just three words, entrapping people by sucking them into a dark vortex known as depression.

Light

When things do not go our way,
When we are tossed
By winds that lead our hopes astray
Remember....
Light is never far away.

Lost

I am lost
Amid an ocean of faces
Where my vision
Becomes hazy glimpses.
Familiar shapes and colours
Mixed in a blender
Oddly distorted
Blown up and bloated.
Every step looks ominous
And the paths
that used to be harmless
Is now fraught
With challenges.

I move slowly
Tread purposefully
With a squint
Of concentration.
My world
So bright and cheery
Has suddenly turned
Uncertain and blurry.
Amid helpful suggestions
Chortles and giggles
I finally admit
Life cannot be grappled
Without my spectacles!

Limbs

A woman lost three fingers in a freak accident yesterday. She is a fellow resident in my apartment block. Her fingers had rested on a door frame when a sudden gust of strong wind blew the door shut. It slammed right onto her fingers, crushing all three at once. She was sent to the hospital, and the fingers were amputated. In just a few minutes, she lost part of herself.

Through life, we have contributed our fair share of grumblings about backaches, sore shoulders, arthritis, and even gout. True, it's hard to be optimistic and laugh the pains and aches away when the affected part inflicts misery on us. But in our sufferings, we seldom stop to think that........at least we still have the fingers for arthritis to attack, or that we still have a foot for us to sprain!

Perhaps now is a good time to start appreciating the various parts of our bodies that we've long taken for granted. We are lucky that the danger of stepping onto landmines and losing our legs in a blink of an eye is minimal. We could start by being more self-reliant, put our limbs to good use, and in the process, get some exercise as well. Walk the short distance to the kitchen for a glass of water instead of hollering for the hired help.

And every night, if we climb into our warm beds as whole as we have been in the morning, we should be thankful that we've made it safely through another day.

Nature's Art

A splash of colour
On a celestial canvas
Nature's work of art.

Tragedy? Comedy?

A tragedy. A comedy. All but separated by a fine line.

A beautiful romance, a tragic triangle. A Shakespearean tragedy that befalls the lives of the young and beautiful. We sympathise with them, we worry for them. We wonder how their entanglements will end. Whenever they need an understanding ear to listen to their distress, or a shoulder to cry on, we are ready to offer ours. We are keen to help them lighten their burden, albeit only by the simple act of listening. Their moans mingle with ours. Their tragedy has an impact on the people around them.

A romance, a triangle. In the form of an aged Romeo and Juliet. A tragedy? Nay. How often have we laughed at their antics? Gossiped about the outcome? Yes, we wondered how it would end, but more often in mirth. The blush on wrinkled cheeks is not to be compared with the blush on alabaster cheeks. The understanding ear and the shoulder are still offered, but with a snigger not straying far. We could barely supress a shudder and a giggle at the terms of endearment that fall from their lips.

Thus, the tragedy becomes a comedy.

Dawn

Dawn approaches
Gently on tiptoe
Illuminates the sky
With a rosy glow.

Shadows flee
Darkness disperse
From Apollo's chariot
Sunlight emerge.

Arise, sleepers
From your slumbers
A new day dawns
A new page awaits us.

Rainbow

A single rainbow
Streaks across the sullen skies
Colours the bleak soul.

Life is Fragile

Life is fragile.

Life is precious.

Life can be snapped away like a broken pencil. No matter who, no matter what. However treasured or needed, however hard we cling to it. The spirit is like a kite. And our life, the kite string. Cut the string, and the kite will soar away.

To what?

Reincarnation? Life after death? Or do we simply disappear?

The memories left behind, once departed. Thoughts float away, to the happy times we had with the person we once loved. They creep into our slumbers. They appear when we least expect them, when the slightest incident summons their presence into our minds.

Forgotten.......never. Seen for the last time when our lives flash before our eyes, at the last moment.

Life is to be treasured. The present, not the past nor the future. Cast fear behind the smoky veil, where it belongs. Face each new day with courage and laughter. Time ticks relentlessly. Always forward, never backwards. Cherish our sojourn here on earth.

And when it is time to snap our kite strings, there will be no regrets. Only happy memories.