30.7.15

wahai,

akan kukejar kau ke ujung dunia
dan memaksakan jejak maya yang seharusnya tertapak.


sekian,
karena saya masihlah manusia biasa.

21.7.15

demikian, tentangmu.

dan lalu, kesatria terbang.
ke langit ke sembilan, semesta yang dibangunnya setelah mimpi.
tak ada tanah yang mampu menahannya tetap pada bumi.
tak pula jejaring cerita semu akan ingatan yang berurai.

dan lalu tentang puri,
yang masih belum pondasi :
sebuah galeri kaca suaka segala asumsi.
tentang dia. siapa lagi.

juga tentang hati. yang ini milikku.

suatu pagi di duaribudua.
suatu malam di duaribusembilan.
labirin itu buntu. sudah. dan tetap demikian. sampai nanti.

dan akhirnya, kesatria terbang.
meleburkan labirin, tanpa menengok lagi ke belakang.


maka kali ini, giliran hati milikku,
- karena ia tak pernah putri yang dicarinya -
untuk kembali percaya pada rasa yang nyata.




- suatu waktu di duaribulimabelas :
untuk semua putaran energi misterius,
yang mencari rumahnya bersama tarian aksara
surat-surat cinta yang tak bertakdir,

terima kasih.

13.7.15

change.

have i told you before,
that you're the one who changed my morning :
from a bluish floral-patterned gown to cotton shorts and light white t-shirt

have i told you before,
that you're the one who changed my noon :
from bread and coffee - if not skipping lunch - to a full set of green salad

have i told you before,
that you're the one who changed my early evening :
from daydreams and random scribble to proper reading and past writings color-palette experiments

have i told you before,
that you're the one who changed my nights :
simply, from cups of black coffee to a full mug of hot chocolate

have i told you before,
that it's only my midnights you could never do anything about :
since it's where all of our changes met and had their battle. for good and for the absence of infinity.

daylights told no lies,
while truths are however hidden beyond the darkest of nights.
that so, when your only request was please be honest with me,
it's easy. we have all the midnights in the universe
(the unalterable that refuses to hide anything) :
to witness our unspeakable confessions, to hide all the truths only our hearts know.

9.7.15

yes, it was.

it was a plain phase of seasons changing,
not your typical : nice, no longer too cold yet too warm.

it was a boring melody of lullabies,
a company for through zillion nights of hopelessness.

it was a shaken faith of spiritual encounters,
a harshly quiet battle between trust and distrusts.

it was a series of nights of thousands untold tales,
a beginning, a conflict, and an ending. a closure of all.

it was never an open ending of yesterday,
so that better never, in fact, the right word to start the day.

it was how things slowly vanished, and reborn.