Thursday, November 17, 2011

The sun gives off its last rays as it sets in the distant sky, and she knows. With the darkness has come the call for the creatures that set ablaze the night. For those who are looked down upon, for they dare to be different, for they dare to speak, dare to question, for they are free, free from everything that has ever bound you and I.
They chose to warm the night, give it life, light. They are creatures of the night. They destruct its silence, its serenity, for them, the night is pure. Darkness is their light, they feed off it. And to you, this difference, it boils your blood. You want them to be you, but it is shameful, your expectations disgust me. Your light, the light of day, cannot be theirs. Do not expect them to be what you have become, a follower. You have done enough already, do not try to change them, they are free, let them be. Your loose morals cannot be theirs, your ways are alien to them, let them be so.

Let her set ablaze the very same sky that you fear, tonight and for a thousand more. She is beautiful, beautiful at what she does. Her freedom hurts you, for you, the very same freedom is a forbidden fruit, one you have been told to not bite into. She is naked, her skin fresh, do not try to clothe her with your filth.

I beg of you, let her run. Do you not see how beautiful she is? Are you blinded by the leaps she takes? Or afraid of how she pushes boundaries into a far corner? Perhaps, you are envious, for she is all you will never be. She is her, you are somebody else. Or it is something more trivial? Her smile, perhaps?

She is faster now, the night is warmer. You have angered her. I warned you, did I not? Do not try change nature. However she is gentle, she will forgive you. Learn from her, but do not try to change her. For she is a creature of the night, most beautiful, most sacred.

Se ono wafse ilia.   

Saturday, November 12, 2011

There is a tiger. It is fierce. Orange and black in between shades of green and yellow, shaded in the backdrop of darkness. It glistens in the white light of an omniscient full moon. It searches, crawls to run, for every step brings him closer. Closer for what he longs.

Do you know what he longs for? I don't. Is it a delicate matter of the heart, a beauty more than his? Or is it hunger that calls him? A hunger for a matter of the heart. It is the only explanation for these hurried steps. Hunger, it attracts him. He is hungry, he is foolish. His senses have lost all sense, and he falls.

The hunter has caught it's prey. The hunger lost, replaced with anger. Orange and black overpower brown. A life is lost, a lesson learnt. The anger resides within him, hidden by a hunger. Some fall for the hungry tiger, some know of the anger. I have learned, I have survived. Orange and black, he crawls to run, with every step that bring him closer towards you.