K, just happens to be that when i wrote this I didnt really know anything. I debated over whether to delete it or not and just decided to keep it. After all, why not?


Kotel Plaza
Standing in full glory.
Newly washed and polished stones.
Crevices emptied,
notes and letters
spilling forth.
Swept away,
collected
on the ground.


A janitor
Broom and shovel in hand
sweeps away letters,
With the many tears
With the many hearts
many broken
bitter hearts
that still yearn
for connection.
For salvation.
For Redemption.

And yet,
how can one so blatantly throw it all away?
How can one cleanse another Jew's pain?
How can one brush away the heartfelt cries of love that so many have written to G-d?

How?

Why the Breach in the intense connection?

Janitor, Janitor,
Sweep it away
But dont forget,
you're sweeping tears.

Through the Lenses

Stepping out of the glasses store with my newly purchased glasses perched upon my nose, saw me with mixed emotions.
Squinting my eyes in the sunshine, I felt a feeling of newness.
Of rebirth.
An overwhelming feeling of disbewlief at what I had been missing out in all this time.
I could finnally see.
With utmost clarity.
I felt like a new person.
At last,
I could view Hashem's world down to the minutest detail.
It's an awesome, unbelievable feeling.

But Then,

More things come to view...

The imperfections.
The mistakes.
The Stains.
The black spots.
The Defects.
Visible, and more than ever.

But do I really want to see the imperfections?
Do I truly wish to constantly view and judge?

I think not.

Having glasses at last sure is great-
but they're not glued on to the face for a reason.
So that we can remove them, just as the imperfections wish to come in sight. :)

Just when I thought all was lost,
and I could just feel the hopelessness slowly creeping
to me. Ever so slowly. Quietly overcoming me...

Just when I thought no one would get it,
That there was no point in trying.
That an effort to relate was useless...

Just when I felt that I was alone,
that the island would remain stranded forever,
and that I'll never fix circumstance...

...A hand tapped me on the shoulder.
-
-
And just as I was about to run away,
I turned around...
And it was you.



Dedicated to Pumpkin ;)
----> for always letting me vent :)
Luv ya :)

corkscrew

Heart
Fills up
like a bottle under pressure.
It tightens
from the claustrophobia
and squeezes
to allow more in.
The build-up over time,
makes my heart ready to Burst.
I want to let it all out.
To release the tension,
to shout out to the world the truth
get it off my chest
admit whats on my conscience.
But I have one fear:
-
-
that I will lose the cork.

But I keep holding on....

Pesach cleaning somehow always conjures up old memories. As I sifted through piles of clothing and possessions, I came across an old tattered notebook. 

I comfortably sat myself down at the edge of my bed, and opened it up. Suddenly, memories fluttered into my face, straight from those pages. 

This was the notebook in which I wrote down lists, poems and schedules. It was the notebook where most of my blog posts were born.  

With the scribbles alongside illegible handwriting, my life marked its pages. I pored over it, deep in thought. It was the documentary of a time gone by. It held my memories.

I was frozen in a moment in time. And in couldn’t bring myself to let go. I debated whether I should keep the notebook or just throw it out. 

Something within urged me to keep it. 

But another voice called out, begging me to let go of the past. 

And I did.

Because we can’t sit on the past forever. 

Because we have to move on. 

Losing Grip

It started with a knot.

And over time a rope was formed

Strengthened by my toil,

Thickened by my hope. 

And the grip got tighter. 

And just when i thought i finally had you,

the blade hit the rope.

And you were lost. 

Between the lines

Can love be placedin words not said?

Can tongues paint an image that only words can?

Can hearts still bond when the tapestry is ruined?

And can feelings be real when not confirmed? 

The energy runs between the lines. 

Caught in a tangle of lofty tunes. 

It is not clear, so is it true?

But only a fools to believe in only what he sees. 

Trapped

Trapped 

within four cold walls.

No means of escape

are found.

Mouth opens

but no sounds can be emitted,

no words can be formed.

Mouth closes 

in defeat.

Yet still my soul cries out

for freedom.