I, Conquistador

I am a risk taker. I do not seek any form of assurance.
I am a calculated risk, the stakes high, exponentially rise as I roll the die.
I invite dangers lest I would be fearless in facing demons, my own durance vile.
I feel real pain no lesser than any ordinary man with no insurance.

I do not plead for comfort to end this misery. I do not.
I will not ask for aid to tide this fate. I will not.
I am tired of being at ease, a temporal, virtual moment of ease. I am tired.
I feel a strain, a strain along the walls of my heart.

I plead for the lessons to come thereafter.
I will ask for the tools to sharpen my intellect, to hone my instincts.
I will not grow tired of the battle. Of this everlasting battle.
I beg not for the stilling of my pain, but for my heart to conquer it.

For I am a conquistador. I will conquer my heart.

I, Conquistador

Cocoon

I wandered the earth, pillaged old and broken dreams of the lost and the damned.
I stole hopes and dreams of many, stripped and bore their souls to kingdom come.
War ensued; not of borders, not of ideologies, not of poverty and wealth, not of religion.
War; a conflict close and real. Prolonged and surreal. I am my own war.

I was knee-deep in dangerous waters. Those who delved deep, drowned.
Those who delved deeper, lost. I barely made it out alive.
I stood alone, braved the demons who haunt me late at night.
I was all alone. I saw the darkest shadow I cast on others, on myself. I was afraid.

In that dead moment, i looked at the mirror and saw myself, the harshest truth, of how regressive i’ve become.
It is from that moment, from that point on, i saw the need to torch myself.
To be free from the shackles of my own demons, the vines that root deeply, that entangle my heart.
It is from that moment, i fight.

In the end, I found something. The ashes of my old self.

Cocoon

Matahari

I chased the sun before she left the sky.
She was there up high in the air; suspended in amazing grace.
She smiled down from the heavens, radiating life to us, to me.
She’s a powerhouse, embraced in her own celestial sphere, all she needed was faith.

The emptiness of space, written on her face.
Distant stars burn bright late at night, all for me, just a transition, just a phase.
What i’d hope to get a glimpse of her brilliance, bask under her warmth, once more.
I’d stare into the blank canvas of the night sky, wait for the stars to burn to their core.

Impossible. This is why i wait for tomorrow.

Matahari

Totem

A watch is a watch; a matter

It has a certain weight; a quantitative scale. 

This watch was a gift from my friends.
Granted, it’s a blend of sophistication and class. That isn’t the main point.
I love how comfortable it is, ensnaring; a tight good grip; resting comfortably on my wrist.
I’ve grown fond of it, it grew on me.

The weight of the watch has become all too familiar.
I know how it weighs, how it feels like.
It knows the the beat of my pulse.
This weight reminds me; it reminds me.

Ideas too profound, too complicated to describe
Simple weight; simple feel
Semper fi

This watch is my totem.