Great Storms of Our Lives

If every human being is an island, I have something to say about this: when the great storm approaches, there is nothing one could do to prevent such design of nature. Yet, the deep breath before the plunge is one of the most important moments the storm reveals. For such moment is part of the storm yet to come, though not often considered as it is.

Storms are gifts of nature, splendid as they are, yet mostly misunderstood by men and women who tend to cast evil and uncanny thoughts upon them. It is, however, comes down to the ability to seize the moments of deep breath before the plunge of storm, in order to look at the storm in the eye. Or else, the great storms of our lives shall devour us and disband our will without a moment of peace.

One could not welcome a great storm, nor could he be joyful as it approaches. Fear, anxiety, and a relentless restlessness are often the part of the moments of deep breath. And one could moreover be strong and brave enough to stand against it, to fix their eyes upon it. Storm shall devour one nonetheless, there is no escape. But hope must not be abandoned, thoughts of good memory and celebration must not be cast aside, and emotions in that way, must be catalyzed to create love at that instant. For love is the most powerful energy that man has ever known. One could not love a great storm, nor should they love it, embrace it. Love must come uneventfully during the deep breath. And one must profess their emotions, so that they could be catalyzed to create a shieldmaiden of love.

The secret that many of us fail to realize is that the great wave that comes as the plunge melts down before the shieldmaiden of love. Just like the lighthouse in the midst of a grim ocean, the shieldmaiden of love is made up of one piece, and is ready to absorb the plunge as one. Gods are created in that instant, and the existing ones are cast into winds of oblivion. For the deep breath before the plunge of a great storm is one mighty instant to become the God of our own destiny!

To write a poem

Enjoy my new poem! :

"I am not full of nobilities or virtues,
But I love...steadfastly, with humility and compassion.
The way I cherish my woman comes uneventfully
Like a soothing summer breeze under a glass moon.

"I speak with kindness, yet I am not an actor.
Not a saint either; people should know me better.
Perhaps a god; but not glorified,
In front of those eyes that passes through my inadequacy.

"Spirited away the most of my telling, all now has gone astray
Diminishing my less the hands blessed in a slender beauty
O the woman of my gleaming fate , for a thousand year I shall be yours.
Cast me into fires; alas, my heart's already in unheard-of ruins!

"Nay, I utter, my love shan't pass beyond the grace of undying lands.
I shall die in you, to be born forever to remain still in your love...

Search for the Implicit

It is only a wise perspective that men of courage and big heart could conjure the spell of implicit, which has impregnated the heart of men with hope and greater deeds. On the other side of the mirror, it is only a fool's perspective to not grasp the fact that the letters which men created to dominate this world with his word, have become the dominator of his own fate.

Letters serve for the explicit, as it could be seen in many written languages of human world. For making the reality explicit, we have created letters, and imbued all our rights of living with a language that is too abstract to unravel many phenomenon. Though men did not reckon one thing, which he does as usual after being inspired by an unchallenged stream of consciousness; that is, the incomplete nature of his own mind.

I do not understand the fool errands of men: how come did you let your own creation dominate your own fate? A creation, even today, decides the doom of many innocent people, lost souls, crippled hearts, and so. Today, letters dominate every single domain of life - through institutions, evil works quietly, attacking from within shadows, and it wields the letters to execute its own malice. An evil whose sole existence cannot be verified unless one takes heart to delve into the shadows. Letters, imbued with corruption instead of aesthetics and beauty; letters that unleashes stagnancy over our fate, instead of inspiring our wits.

What man does say in his heart is not always what he writes on papers. A man that belongs to no nation, no culture, no institution, but with his beautiful earth and its green lands is enslaved by pieces of papers manufcatured by lesser men to corrupt his heart and diminish his humanity - o those lesser men, those fools that dominate our fate! In whose mighty company they could be cast aside, thrown into oblivion and let their ever malice be forgotten, I ask?

We live by explicit, but what we really desire in our hearts is the implicit, the transcendental faculty of our grasp and gaze. Letters are governed by explicit - one explains a thing, that he has yet to understand what that means, then it is written, and becomes the rule and the law governs the fate of many with fraudelence. Yet, what is meant, that does not cross the borders of language but remains in the transcendental remain, is implicit - one that is implied not explained, not completely unfolded. Implicit is the higher capacity of a person that he desires to attain. But he couldn't - how could he when stages of life are governed by explicit, by institutions who corrupt the heart of men by keeping us fixed on what is already explicit? Too much exposure to explicit makes a person drone, a mere robot !

So passes men's faculty for implicit - for poetry, for untold glory, for beauty and music ! Alas, there is none to see the passing, none to grasp what is within our reach still !