The Dance

There's another world inside of me
That you may never see
There're secrets in this life
That I can't hide
Somewhere in this darkness
There's a light that I can't find
Maybe it's too far away...
Or maybe I'm just blind...

Maybe I'm just blind...

So hold me when I'm here
Right me when I'm wrong
Hold me when I'm scared
And love me when I'm gone
Everything I am
And everything in me
Wants to be the one
You wanted me to be
I'll never let you down
Even if I could
I'd give up everything
If only for your good
So hold me when I'm here
Right me when I'm wrong
You can hold me when I'm scared
You won't always be there
So love me when I'm gone

Love me when I'm gone...

Lyrics of “When I am gone” by band 3 doors down

The stage is set and they step out on it. Hand in hand, each step a precise beat in a symphony they come out into the spotlight and make their way to the center.

He faces her and looks at her. Dressed in a semi backless black evening gown with thin shoulder straps and with her shoulder length black hair she looks like an angel from heavens up above. There is no wind, not even a breath from the awe bound spectators and yet for some reason her hair maintain a poise of pride, like a halo.
Dressed in his black fit tuxedo immaculate in his appearance with his hair gelled and held back in perfect waves he looks handsome. A fitting beau for a beautiful princess. He stares into her deep brown eyes. The eyelashes as if long fingers protecting priceless diamonds, hide them and then reveals them again. The signal has been given, the acceptance acknowledged and he takes a step back. They turn to face the crowd and take a bow. He looks over his shoulder to his left, a crisp nod of his head and the music begins.

Facing her again and bowing just so slightly he takes her right hand into his left and with all his grace encloses her petite body in his right arm. The feet move, together. The eyes are locked.

The ceremony has begun.

He takes her around. She is agile on her feet, nimble. His movements are firm and precise. His head is held high and she is the image of perfection that moves with an astonishing agility around him. They move in unison, every step carved to perfection. Their movements are swift, rapid, calculated, fast and yet every position held long enough that they seem to be not a part of this space around us but the space itself, as if a maestro like Da Vinci is carving them out instantaneously and marking them fixed in a universe that they seem to leave behind with every passing epoch.

His arm uncoils from her body and she slides on his stretched self from his left to his right, spinning in front of him and making him feel her touch as she moves. She reaches the end of his outstretched right arm and at just the precise moment he catches her from her fingers and pulls her back. For an instance they are face to face again, for an instance the eyes meet again, for an instance there is a fire and they are the center of universe exuding such a powerful burst of energy which a thousand suns and stars cannot mar. She breaks away again, facing the spectators she makes her entire self balance on a tip of her toe of her left feet with her left hand as if caressing her body and her right hand raised on top of her head while her right foot slithers up her left leg and sits touching her knee. She lets herself fall back and he catches her. Her left foot slides in her front extending her body in thin air, her right is still bent and she bends down her neck in his arms and look up at his face. Another moment lived to perfection, another harmony sung out and another orgasm taken to the heights of divine ecstasies. He pulls her up and the feet begin moving together again. They take each other’s hands and for once, she bends back, oozing out an oomph from those who watched muted. She snaps back upright and at the same time flings herself up onto his cuddled up arms and he hoists her above his head claiming his adulation for her as his crown. She lies there suspended between heaven and earth, between a dream and a reality, between a heated desire and a nonchalant possession. He takes her down and she coils her lissome legs around his torso and sits upright in his lap while he stands supporting her feline body with both his arms. Eyes are locked again, lips are almost together and he can make out tiny beads of dew appearing on her forehead with all this love making.

She springs down onto the ground again and he wants to slow down for her sake. She is still electrified, still charged, still the cynosure and he becomes a follower lead by her severe desire. He moves with her still, holds her still and lets go of her still on her every small whim and command that she issues from her entire body using it as an instrument to dictate. The music heats up further and so does she. She moves faster and faster taking him with her and he follows blindly. She spins all around him holding his finger from on top of her head as if a beautiful puppet being suspended from thin air.

And then she stops and falls into his arms. He bends his right knee forward making her stretch horizontal once more. Her torso lies partly on his bent right thigh and partly in the air around her. Her right hand is in his left and his right hand is bent behind his back as if taking a bow. She lies there suspended looking in his eyes. He can see oceans of love and lust crashing with heavenly forces in those pupils. Her eyes burn with desire and affection. And he can see himself being reflected in them. A glint crosses in those sapphires and it takes him a second to realize the left hand which comes down suddenly and buries the blade in his back.
He falters but does not let go. How can he, if he does she’ll fall and he can not allow that to happen! Her hand moves again and the blade is pulled free. She springs free from his body and he tries to stand but bends double. Another flash of lightening and the blade is buried again. He tries to lift his face and look at her. The beads of dew are more pronounced, her hair though as if now beginning to feel the charge coming out of her and trying to stand up slightly still looks a halo. He looks at her and she lifts her right foot. The contact is made on his face and he ends up on the stage lying flat on his back. She moves closer, his eyes squint trying to bring her face into focus. There is a spotlight shinning at the top right at the back of her head, no no its sun, no it’s a moon, no probably it’s a star! Damn its hard to look at her with these rays burning his eyes and he closes them with a single thought running through his dying cells

She still looks beautiful.

Audience breaks into a standing ovation. She turns, takes a bow and leaves.


The ritual has ended.

So hold me when I'm here
Right me when I'm wrong
Hold me when I'm scared
And love me when I'm gone
Everything I am
And everything in me
Wants to be the one
You wanted me to be
I'll never let you down
Even if I could
I'd give up everything
If only for your good
So hold me when I'm here
Right me when I'm wrong
You can hold me when I'm scared
You won't always be there
So love me when I'm gone

Love me when I'm gone...

Those Eyes

This one that I am going to share with you now is something I wrote last year in February. I was in London on a business trip, it was my last night and I was miserably drunk. She was a regular reader of my other blog which I once had. She approached me on yahoo messenger that night and we had a long conversation. It was indeed a night of literary verbiage and shared soliloquies. I did not sleep the whole night that one and was up chatting with her. We shared our lives, our secrets and a lot more. While on my way back on my early morning flight I kept thinking of her, kept drinking and wrote this out. She is no longer in my life now, left about one and a half month ago. But then again que sera sera….

My life is brilliant.
My life is brilliant.
My love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.

She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.

You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.

I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.

Yeah, she caught my eye,
As we walked on by.
She could see from my face that I was,
Fucking high,
And I don't think that I'll see her again,
But we shared a moment that will last till the end.

You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.

Song You’re beautiful by James Blunt

Sitting in a space which probably is just enough for a man to crouch in am living my life at a speed of 974 kilometers per hour at a height of 11142 meters above the sea level. I have slept 5.5 hours combined in the last two days and combined have already gulped down a full bottle of chardonnay, 11 pints of beer, 5 glasses of red wine a couple of brandies and have just asked these angels floating in these clouds with me to please now get me some cognac. My eyes are swollen, blood red and tired. I have watched two movies back to back, read 60 pages on philosophy, argued about the entire Asian eco-politico-social system with my fellow sufferer for 2 hour at length and though am confused am dodgy, am hallucinating and am feeling as if am dead with all these clouds around me still - I can not give up thinking about those eyes.

Been a couple of hours since I saw them for the first time and probably the last. Been a couple of hours since I tried to seduce them. Tried to make them look into mine and drown them. How often does it happen, that the hunter becomes the hunted? You are menacingly prowling the ripe grounds swarming with life looking for your next pray and as soon as you get a hint, a premonition, a hunch of your target you take an aim and fire your best shot and just at that precise moment your target turns around and she fixes you with a magnificent stare which sends a terrible bolt of realization shooting down your spine which enlightens you that what you were looking at was nothing but a mere reflection being cast in a wall of glass and that the projectile you just hurled has ricocheted and is running screaming towards you and no matter how much a part of your brain flashes the red warning light and sirens and instructs your entire muscular system to move, scram, begone, still the firm gaze hypnotizes you so bad that you just chose to ignore all such flashes of wisdom and stand completely vulnerable to the rushing bolt just so that you can see see some more of those magnificent, sparkling, pearly, deep, hypnotic, whispering eyes.

Just how often?

Not much I would assume for had it been a phenomenon that should occur like a beat in a symphony after every fixed interval of time or maybe that unexpected sound that comes in frequently when in the height of rhythmic ecstasy you smash the guitar on the drums, I shall content myself with the satisfaction of the thought that a hunter like myself would then prepare himself for the eventuality of the coming mirage and either chose not to hunt for a while or maybe and in more likelihood better prepare himself with certain more amount of exercise and caution. But what does a man got to do when it happens for the first time? When all it takes to render him helpless, hopeless and to a good extent even pathetically desperate is nothing more than a hypnotic look from two sapphires studded and shining in a milky white cloudy night!?
How does a man fight then!

How do you make your escape when the eyes not only look, seduce and hold you but also whisper in your ears from such a distance as if the very wind is their slave, calling you closer and closer just like the Sheila in the ocean who with their enchanting music cast a binding spell over innocent sailors, over their rationale, logic rendering them completely helpless and lulllabying them to their doom. When you yourself want to be lured and possessed. When all that matters to you in the world for that instant is a look of admiration reflecting back in those crystals. When you want to give in and not fight and lose and not win.

Do you have time to react? Yes! Yes you do! You get a whole heartbeat’s length of time! People tell me that much is not enough and I ask them, really? It takes a heartbeat to look and feel. It takes a heartbeat (or a skip of one) in which endless words are spoken and heard and felt without any effort to communicate being made. It takes a heartbeat for a chill to energize those neurons so badly that every pour on your body is standing up in attention. It takes a heartbeat's length of time to fight and surrender and give in. A heartbeat's length of time in which an eyelash flashes, hides and reveals those waters again and pulls you so rapidly towards them as if someone hooked you from the navel and gave a massive tug making your feet lose the ground beneath them finally drowning you. It takes a heartbeat to take a click of those flashing eyes and imprint it on your memory forever which no amount of time can erase and which probably you would still see when you shall lie down for the last time in your life.

And they tell me it is not enough time?

I know those eyes would sweep through this page sooner or later. I know those eyelashes would flicker and batter and there would be a thought if this is really about them. Who knows probably they are here right now, on this very word? Probably there is a smile dancing on those lips now, probably those eyes have flashed for an instance onto messenger to check if I am online, probably now there is a urge and a hitch at the same time to leave an offline message for me, probably those eyes are a little mad now for the way I read through them and their inability to shut me off, and probably a certain mischief is now dancing in them toying with the idea on how it would be to give in just for once.....

Probably.

It was all about those eyes in whose temptation I allowed myself for a certain while to live the life of a hopeless, desperate romantic that I once was. Pardon me if I do not make much sense here given my current physical and mental state.

My plane just flew over Singapore and instinctively I arched my neck and looked down out of the window.

Probably......

You're beautiful.
You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.

Words

If words had any power, I’d be the king of this world.

Words. Beautiful ugly distorted perfect words. Words – all I have are these words. These words which I use to convey what I feel, to draw an image in the air of the objects floating in my brain and as if by sheer magic transpose that image into your mind, often without even speaking.

Words, which I am in love with. Words which I use as my rescue and my weapon. Words which I hurl at my opponents as spears and words which I use to rapidly conjure a thick shield impenetrable by all with such subtlety and suddenness that somehow still amazes even me. Words that I use to charm my way out of situations. Words that I use to create temptations arouse a mortal’s most hidden and primitive desires and make him obey me. Words that I use to manipulate, maneuver, connive and convince. Words with which my association goes back as far as I can think of. Often incomprehensible in one language, say the language I spoke when I was one or two years of age, yet words nonetheless perfectly understandable to those who understand the language I chose given a particular moment in this dynamics of space and time.

Words which always stay with me ready to launch themselves from the tip of my tongue and fingers at my slightest provocation, which I can always rely on to come to my aid and yet, which always helplessly, hopelessly fail me when I need them the most.

When I try to describe the magic, the power those eyes have over me. When I try to compare her elegance with that of a flowing river and her poise her stature to that of a wisp of smoke delicately yet firmly positioning itself in the thin air, when I try and equate her laughter to the sounds of humming wind and when I try and compare the silent noise her tears make to that of a delicate bone china glass being shattered. When I try and conjure up a perfect world where she will be the queen and I shall be her most desired and humble servant, the object of her desire, her playmate, her dark secret life. Someone she would look straight into the eyes when the king is holding his court and mouth a wordless “I love you”. When I try and impress unto her how much her presence mean in my life. When I want to with all my earnestness minus any of my conniving make her understand how much she has become a part of me. When I reminisce about those glorious days spent in her arms and those moments of intense passion I spent looking down at her sweating face as we moved again and again together composing a perfect harmony taking it to its crescendo using our bodies as Lord’s gifted musical instruments.

When I call her name in the darkness and the fear that invokes in my heart thumping with its every beat that I shall never see her again. When I crave for her, long for her. When I try and tell her how much I love her, want her, need her and beg her not to go. When I try and scream at God for putting me in these predicaments, for causing me this pain. When I try and make myself believe she is not gone but simply hiding her somewhere in these dark shadows encouraging me to find her, prolonging my desire so that when I finally catch her I shall be a thirsty mad man and she will be the river that will quench my thirst satisfying my temptations. Words when I curse my fortune, my life, my existence. Words when I try to find them in these waves of destiny on my palms and forehead. Words which I want to use to express my loss, my pain, my grief, my need, my desire. Which I want to use to fill this void she created deep within me when she left.

Words, how I hate them and love them. How I use them with such ease and yet often find myself at a total loss on how to summon them.

Words. Nothing but a mere permutation of some dark spots of ink placed comfortably together or some modular variations in the wavelengths of this air all around us. No complications like quantum mechanics, thoughts of a philosopher, equations of Einstein, just simple plain words.