There's A Baby In There

The blackness below her eyes was the last thing I noticed, she looked like she was in pain while praying, and she didn't stand while praying. After her prayer our eyes met, mine filled with questions, while in hers was a strange look that I didn’t quite understand, I have never seen anyone like her before, at least not from this close, she looked so unreal. Her eyes looked as if they too had a question to ask, or a thought to share. Did she envy me for my care free life in comparison with hers, or did she wish I knew what she was going through, from joy or pain, I felt like she had something to share but she was too tired to speak and talk.

And I am sure that if I asked her, her answer was that she wouldn't change a thing cause she couldn't be happier.

Some pain is worth going through…. I hope for her sake she is right =)

Dreams

We see them while sleeping, or when we're awake,

We see them with our eyes closed, and more with them open.

We try to fulfill them; we try to achieve them,

Sometimes we run from them, and sometimes we chase them

We can deny them, we can declare them,

We can focus on a specific detail that we let go of the whole dream,

Yet at other times we focus on the big picture that small details escape from us,

Big or small

Short or long termed

Achievable, or not their time

Day or night

Still they are your dreams and they ought to be considered and taken very seriously

"Day" by Sir Cecil Spring Rice

Work never ends, and that itself is a beauty,

This is one of my favourite poems, talking about never ending work 

Day

‘I am busy’ said the sea.
‘I am busy’ Think of me
making continents to be.
‘I am busy” said the sea

‘I am busy’ said the rain.
‘When I fall it’s not in vain;
Wait and you will see the grain.
I am busy.’ Said the rain.

‘I am busy” said the air,
‘Blowing here and blowing there,
Up and down and everywhere.
I am busy,' said the air.

‘I am busy,’ said the sun.
‘All my planets, every one,
Know my work is never done.
I am busy, said the sun.

Sea and rain and air and sun,
Here’s a fellow toiler – one,
Whose task will soon be done.

Choosing A Bad Habit

A day contains different events, some are small repetitive, and others are just one timers, that’s all great and fine, but when doing one of those repetitive , we choose to force ourselves into the good ones ”or so we think” we like to increase our good habits area, but doing so, we sometimes miss the developing of a repetitive bad habit that integrates within our daily routine, and soon enough it becomes and independence, and when you do something so often for no reason, you'll need a very strong reason to stop doing it,  so to not reach that part, I’m choosing one for myself,

I'm not self destructive, but I’m preventing a disaster, so I'm choosing the bad habit instead of it choosing me.

Thoughts To Spare

I have a mind with thoughts to spare

Millions of thoughts that I’ve tried to share.

When I open my mouth with the words to be said

The words on my tongue refuse to be shared

Though I talk much, and say a lot

The words I wish to speak should not come out

Seeing the experience of my friends to be

My mind please keep working but from underneath

You tell me that I shouldn't say this

But I tell you it's the fact that everyone misses

So it's not my mind that will speak

But some worthy ideas I might share

Clouds

On a sunny day only one is enough

to block out the burning feeling of that sun

On a rainy day none is ever enough

let it rain, let it rain, i can never get enough

FeedBack

Galileo, Van Gogh, Edgar Allan Poe, Mozart

These people have one thing in common, they all became famous after their death. So I wonder why do dead people get a lot of credit after they die? Knowing that during their life, they've been mistreated and unvalued. But once they died, their work that was once of no value became the priciest and the elite's choice. Why do they get all the positive feedback when they're six feet further away, why is all the negativity forgotten and no one has a word to say.

But then, maybe, there's a slight chance, a small beam of light of being fair, and someone say that that person had positives and they were 1,2,3, and still if had negatives and they were 1,2,3, but what about a better idea, why not say this person has positives and has negatives.

I've tried to reason why they only mention the negatives, maybe that's their way of saying you can do better -the tough love kinda way- but here they’ve failed to guide them to the right direction, leading to depression and possibly death at early age for many young talents.

Another reason –I think- is that they don't want to admit they like it and therefore they'd have to compliment -something their fragile ego can't handle- , or they'd have to have an intellectual talk -with the artist, author, or whoever- where their ignorance would be revealed faster than you can say who.

So they'd rather wait till that person is dead so that they say that he meant something by his work, -which he probably did not-.

They'd rather live in a world of maybe and perhaps,

Than let their void bubble of knowledge collapse