With all my heart

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Lord,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;

to be understood, as to understand;

to be loved, as to love.

with all my heart, with all my heart.

Amen.

here comes the sun

a gentle warmth from a cold winter morning sun,

a simple beauty,

simplicity devoid of unnecessary elements,

a reminder of unspoilt times,

where thoughts were faster then tongue,

and life will go its way, but beauty can only be found.

empty page

I am, much to my surprise, am living in a peculiar relief of a bizarro world version of a real conflict. Things, to my limited knowledge of understanding, seemed back to normal, if normal even exits that is. Yet here I am, in the middle of no-man's-land yet again. A rural interlude away from nowhere, proving life ever more unpredictable. All over, the background of flickering drone of monitor sets and soft hums of heavy machinery fills the air . Life goes on, but as always, there's a blue lit reminder that somewhere across, all is not well. 

Its 3 am, and about 12 degrees. Im poaching myself in my own sweat, barely comprehending of the neon signs around or what they mean. The foreign tongue, the lingoes unpredictable pattern, a language i understand not at all.  The sense of time, as much predicted, seems circular rather than linear. 

There's something unsettling about staring at this beautiful wall of black cold winter night. Its ageless unearthly darkness radiates back silently. The endless horizon, the arid landscape or some mystical transference of energy that causes people to resonate at a different level. Endlessly cycling to destruction and rebirth. Just as these walls waited for the rest, it waited for me. Because in essence, i knew that is just an empty page, waiting to be written. 

Suave amigo, suave.

i got me a hat today

and it was a hard one

it shall keep me safe

and ugly too

but it's ok

as long as its sharpied on its inside

the sax

here,

in the busy mist of the city,

i hear a lone saxophone cry to the godfather song,

i searched in vain,

through the alleys streets and crowded people,

to the places of buskers and beggars,

but could not find,

then,

i knew what it meant,

alas tears cluttered my eyes,

Toronto is finally saying goodbye.

yonge-dundas from my window

i finally noticed

no awkward pauses.

yes yes.

its the time of year

good good good