Fantasy

Young child, when you are older, you will realise swords are foolish

That shields are tough to wield

That your prince or princess is often guarded by tougher demons than dragons

That crowns can weigh you down

You will know that this world is not one of fairy tails

You will learn that no hero is too great to be clean of flaws

Yet know you must journey still

Don't let these warnings give you pause

Travel to the land of far far far away

Learn a trade of dashing arts and chivalry

Rise, young squire, the night is young

Act reckless, but with bravery

Like all, you were chosen. Here is your task. A burden. 

Seek the greatest challenge you can in that land.

You must best it, young prodigy

Emerge a much finer human.

And then, when it is time to return

Bring back some fantasy of your own

And you will make a little brighter

This imperfect world we must call home

Own story

I feel like everyone I meet is trying to write their own story
But, it's more like a graphic novel. Or even more than that.
We don't just have words on each page. There are pictures and action and athleticism and movement and code and
Well, memories.

I would love to be good enough at art that I could tell my story with drawings
Because I've seen people who tell their story with drawings
And, I'm not going to lie
It looks bloody awesome

Some act out their story, and rewrite it in the retelling
Others dance their tale
Or let it rise and fall with music they've created
Some people write their story in imprints left on others

No one writes their story in one medium
And no one's story makes sense, unless you've followed from the very start (and even then)
Some people tell their story at such a pace it scares me
Others seem to go slow, and then take an oblique turn if I look away

You, dear reader, have a story
That can only be told in your way
I hope one day, you'll let me witness it
So that my story can include me learning yours

Another life

If I have another life on Earth after this, which person will I be?
I wonder if time always flows linearly
And maybe, just maybe, I'll interact with a younger me
One who was having a bad day and acting callously

Would I have acted differently?
Should it really matter philosophically?
If the actions we do to others, somewhere down the line
May one day be done to us, as that body holds our mind

It may be self-centred, but I tend to find
It helps me be a little more forgiving, give others more time
Some may discard this notion of this fanciful rhyme
I'd ask you to listen once more as I opine

It's very easy to keep acting as you do and hold your pride
But if you realised your impact on other you may decide
That though we are imperfections with good meanings on the side
It's worth the effort, for how you make others feel inside.

A cup of coffee

Is this a cup of coffee I hold before me?
Oh what dangers lie within
What wonders it would be
To indulge just once in sin

To cheat the day
To disrupt the rhythm
But within each cup
I build a schism

Do not cheat the sandman
He who claims his debt
You garner his interest
Only with regret

This bitter brew through which some claim life
This source of sleepless savoured strife
So much potential, and yet I think
I will resist from this much-loved drink