where’s the moon?

i quietly stumbled upon words on the page one of an old paper from the orange journal above the grey storage beside the tidy bed. the clock was past above midnight, almost 2am in the morning. blue curtains on the right side of the bookshelf, big world maps hanging on the white wall. i would like to write a letter to my beloved. i would like to write a letter to the sky, asking him where’s the moon. it’s been days, gloomy, cloudy all day all night. the moon was out of sight, the cloud was all over the atmosphere. i had a quick convo with Mr. Night Sky last night, the sky told me; calming the rush inside my heart, “even if you are not able to look at the moon with your bare eyes, you shouldn’t be worried, for it always is up there. it would never leave you alone with the dark empty sky. it will always be there. worry not, my dear. the moon is there within your heart”

i heard gravity did tie the moon to the earth, it’s like holding hands i guess. the earth loves the moon so much. day and night both being the witnesses of how pretty the moon was and still is. do you know and can you and would you describe within your own language about how beautiful it is to have the moon around, to have it all shining and looking all mesmerizing from up above the starry night sky. and in this indescribable numbness in between the day and night; “how does it feel being loved by the moon so very deeply?”

do you know why i like to learn foreign languages? so that i could understand the language that the moon speaks, so I wouldn’t misunderstood upon things between the two of us. 

do you know why i like to write down some poems? so that i could tell you in a much better phrase about things between constellation and the northern lights.

do you know why i like to read a book? so that i would understand things that i haven’t mastered yet about the knowledge between the past, present, and the future. in the hope that i can share it all the memories of the past, the joy of the present, and the hope of the future with you. can i?

do you know why i like to daydreaming with both my eyes wide opened while letting the ocean breeze gently touch my face? so that i could make a dream come true within hopes and the waves in the name of the vast blue both explored and the unexplored ocean.

how do i tell the moon that im currently lost and need to be found. how do i tell the moon that i have so much stories to tell, how do i tell the moon that i haven’t felt like myself lately, how do i tell the moon that i really need a hug right now, how do i tell the moon that i really need a shoulder to cry on, how do i tell the moon that i miss the smell of that one perfume, how do i tell the moon that the cassiopeia is now waiting for the moon to write her back, poems and letters from the last journey the moon had over the orbit. 

“how do you spell your name, anyway?”

“you don’t know how to spell my name?”

“i thought everyone does know the right spelling of mine”

“it’s started with the 13rd letter”

“‘M’ it is”

“it’s your guess”

“it is M-O-O-N”

“hmm not quite right actually”

“how so?”

“you can spell it M-I-N-E, for you are indeed my favorite one on the entire universe”

do you know that all the good beautiful things started with the letter “M”?

Moon

Mountain

Miracle 

Music

Magic

Money:)

Mango

Mermaid

Midnight

Meow

.

.

and you

the moon said “see you soon” and that’s what keeps me going.

I don't want to cry like that again...

let me stroke your hair with my soft hands. last night was February 25th, it was kinda special. for it was Sunday when we both got to spend the day together, you took me to a cafee and we had brunch. walking upstairs on the second floor with the view; sunny day, ocean blue, white sands, ships on the shore bringing some loads, tuna fish probably. lemon tea was the drink we ordered, it’s not the usual, no coffee, just lemon tea. the chicken steak I ordered was good, hot plate, potato and carrot on the side. you ate your favorite seafood and asked me which one’s my favorite between chicken and duck. the food was good.

the clear blue February’s sky, uncovered by the clouds, always ever-bewitchingly stunning, pretty sure they are packed with pixie dust and warm pecks of memories. there’s even the moon or is it a big sprinkle of pixie dusts? one can only wonder.

i can tell the sky was quite bright, too bright, and the breeze was too strong and my eyes couldn’t even properly opened, half opened and still struggled with the dust flying through the wind. the whole afternoon was too good, deep convos over things that we dont even know the answer yet. the mystery of the universe and the things in between.

you wore your deep army shirt with that blue jeans and that smile behind your brown blackish eyes. on the way home 6 pm in the evening, choosing which spot to stop by, watching the sun sets. getting some snacks and you ordered hot chocolate as i took water instead. the evening was calm as well as my heartbeat. the yellow, pale, orangish shade of the sky up above making your face a bit red. i told you about writing letters and put it inside a bottle and throw it away on the ocean. a fisherman while fishing on the sea or a seven year old kid might find it and keep it just for the sake of good fortune.

and i dont know when i love your eyes more, when they are half open or open or shut. it’s mid night 00.18 am. now. i stumble upon the thought of you. for some reason i think you’re on a boat or anywhere near the shore, star gazing, taking both of your hands behind your head as a pillow. as I recall I probably already told you about a thousand times how much I love star gazing and how much I love the night sky. 

it’s cold today, but in a spring way. 

February 25th. 

i don't want to cry like that again. I just wish if ever I will cry again, it would be the time, the happiest time with you.

how regrettable that we meet each other so late in life but how fortunate that it’s still not too late. 

all i do here is read a book, write poetry, drink too much coffee, and romanticize my melancholic solitude. who am i if not a lover and a lover of letters? 

you do to my heart what the Aurora Borealis does to the northern sky

a sense of appreciation grew from those tiny little things. all the while in an island so far way so long from home. that day I dwelled on a picture I took in August last year, for it was both such an awful yet my favorite month by far, above simply anything else. there's poetry everywhere; in the traffic light at midnight, within the eyes of strangers, behind the mountain of that green scenery, on the wooden table beside the window, on the favorite perfume which smell like a fresh floral, under the  starry night sky, in the midst of summer breeze in the park, in between dimples when you smile at me.

perhaps in my thinking, some flaw lies. I once believed surely every moment and memories I used to cherish would forever be my favorite. I might be wrong. there's this fear and grief as you solely become the reason for me to keep on going, yet I do know in this world it's either a season or a lifetime. would you please be seasonsssssssssssss with as many "s" till it be a lifetime I stay on this earth?

it might seem foolish, or I am a fool to say that you are sent here for a reason, as you are, in truth, a thousand, million reasons behind every warmth, poem, laughter, and story that we shared everyday. each night, deep down below the vein, knowing that you are here completing the tangled chaotic puzzle I got to fill in this very twisted adventure of  life. with you being around, filling this puzzle up doesn't feel so hard or no, more like it is hard but there's you exist.

on the east an hour doesn't feel like any other, each and every moment is a memory cheer up by the smell of the salty humid wind from the sea shore. I may not good at giving advices but I'd like to listen to any of your random story and complaint.

every little things that I know about you; the color of your eyes when you look at me with that smile, the way your hands hold your cup of hot coffee in a cold night on the deck by the bay, your fear of height and losing someone that you love most, the good old days you had with your friends that sometimes you miss, your mom's ripped jeans that hang behind your door that I wish you would wear it more often, wild animal that you want to pet when you were a kid, the little shake on your voice when you talk about how much you love your mom. you may look cool, hard, and all but deep down I know how fragile, soft, loving, caring, and sweet you are, the other side of you that you don't ever show it up to anyone but me. 

the sea shore, with its charming, bewitching shades of blue, and the azure sky above the horizon; that holds a thousand smile, deeper and deeper allure the beauty of nature. sometimes it's about who you are with when you listen to the calming waves as you witness the pink purplish sky before dusk by the bay near the runway. taking pics with my analog, pointing at that big ship before it sailed the sea. under the moonlight, my heartbeat was in solace, as I have found soft spot within your heart, let it be my own acceptance of the fragments that lingers in between reality. 

not all quiet spaces need to be filled with any kind of sound, surely there must be some sort of meaning to all the little things, the passing day and night, you are not merely the moon on the the northern sky, you are my favorite constellation, you are the Cassiopeia of my own constellation.
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when I go home the next summer…. (to be continued…)

P.S. you do to my heart what the Aurora Borealis does to the northern sky

….there is no sense to be made

for quite some time I feel like I've spent lots of my days wondering and trying so hard to make sense of life but from now on I have found and seen that there is no sense to be made, it is only life to be lived, regardless. there is no manual book about the ideal of how it should be nor how it supposed to be, it might be quite a bit confusing most of the time but don't you think it actually is the way the universe telling us to enjoy every single moment that stops by, to enjoy every scene out of life page by page that somehow we assume as a plot twist (well, it doesnt sound so bad at some point, hehehehe it's for the plot ykwim hehe just live it for the plot), and not worry much about what the future holds. there is no set of expectations to fulfill, no checklists to complete, just an ephemeral moment to breath and to enjoy this little life we have as a small human being, to love, to be kind, to be sweet, to feel life in all the simplest; little things that we often overlook. 

aint no lie, sometimes I do want life to be like the way I imagine it to be, the way I expect it to be, but at the same time I do realize Im just right where Im supposed to be, and it is what it is, to live is to enjoy those little moments we have with our loved ones.
aint no lie, I still get sad and disappointed some time hehe (just to let the emotions get in the way and not to hold (actually trying so hard cause most of the time all I do was crying) anything that supposed to be felt hehe both the bad and the good ones). I know Im small and weak and i only know so little words and small things could easily touch my heart and make me cry. 
sure is, there will be so many more things to laugh about
so many more moments that feel straight out of a movie
so many more main character moments waiting in the way
so many more people to meet
so many more days in the head to cheer
and there's so much more to celebrate
things may aint seem like a fairytale
things may dont fall into place 
but for now I think it's best just to enjoy this little life and this little moments we have

and so half a century later Im still baffled, fascinated, and amazed at the same time knowing how much that little moments in life truly matters. I am a compilation of my favorite songs, a list of books I've read, a scene of events that forever shaped the way I see things. at the end of the day Im a mosaic of my own broken pieces. don't you think that happiness should  be looked for in the small corners of the room, delicately folded into time and space, don't you think that it's such a gentle reminder of how much we should live life a little deeper, a reminder of how silly it is to actually live in this precise moment, in this exact place with this exact people, billions people never cross path and yet still exist in the same corner of a planet. 

in a blink of an eye, don't you think that there is somehow a little kind of magic tucked away in this moment, how we pull at these invisible red strings in our chests, give so much of us those we want to love right. how entirely insane it is to inhabit this strange, strange world, and how little it takes to find moments that make it all worth it?