the choice..

I might be in love or out of love..
listen to love..
or denying at all..

diligently follow my heart..
or hiding from..
walk with..
or run away..

it is me not you..

the silence of us..

secret is..
when people keep talking about their wants and needs..doubts and fears..
when I keep saying no, dragging myself far..
my heart beats..

because their pains become mine..
these could bring me down..

Rumi keeps quiet..
sunset and and night.

time has no means as their secrets and mine are laughing at me..

I am sitting with Rumi..centuries apart
feeling the pain, could not be understood by me..
whispering to me..
accepting these..nothing you can do..

should known better..


heaven and earth..

the contrast of life..
day and night..
and we revolve around..
unspoken feelings..
unspoken histories..
accepting the contrast of life..

my secrets..

“Paradoxically, the ability to be alone is the condition for the ability to love.” 
― Erich FrommThe Art of Loving
when I am alone and listening to the clouds, while they could share freely the pieces of secrets found along their journey.. I become an humble observer with no intention to tell them what I feel.. and my secrets..

no second chance..