Silenzia.

Find me where the cacophony of sounds meets deafening silence, where pin drops seem to echo, and whispers blare like air raid sirens. Out, past all this plastic noise pollution, is an escape where our bodies do all of the talking.
I am loudest in the pregnant expectation of audiences awaiting an orchestra's first notes, search for me along the surface of the unbeaten drum. Slide your fingers on the coastal cities of my parchment skin, sometimes I even hide between guitar strings that have yet to be plucked.
Where aria meets melody, and where bass tickles the rhythm, you will notice me dancing between the lines, like a dervish, whirling, intoxicated.
I am in the sighs, and the frustration—every exhalation between lovers in a spat. There is much of me in their reconciling, and in the fire that rekindles their romance.
Listen closely and you will hear me in the throats of birds, I am there in the few moments of silence before they crow and wake the world. I feel most serene when I am tranquil, and more radiant than the rising sun.
At the bottom of the ocean, where it is pitch dark and eerie quiet; hear me harmonize with humpback whales, whose songs below the surface interrupt the intimidating underwater silence.
As society slides further away from stillness, hush your mind and listen to your heart; if you seek then you will find me, at the nape of light and dark.

Aurat.

Woman brought us to the Earth,
but man will take us out;
ruled by ego and insecurities, 
he shoots before he shouts.
The fourth world war will be fought
with sticks and stones, like in the past:
for the third will annihilate our home,
with one single blast.
If women ruled today, 
we would still have our humanity,
instead of this endless rage, 
that is often coupled with
unadulterated insanity.

Age of Aquarius.

You signed your name in invisible ink upon my stony, restless heart; where others failed to leave an impression, you left an eternal mark. I was intrigued by you from our first chance meeting, even though you loathed me from the very start. Now, I remain indebted to you, for illuminating my path through the dark.

If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you, I fear, my sorrow would've won.

At eight years young, when Sam excitedly introduced our families, I tried to impress you with Street Fighter, but to my chagrin, you had no time for silly games. Soon, I'd find excuses to visit your home, to catch sight of the unicorn, but even then, you were too cool for me. While I engaged in foolishness, your wisdom still surpassed my child's play.

If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you, I fear, my sorrow would've won.

Perhaps my pursuit of your friendship shrouded me in desperate shades, so I gave up, and invented lies, just to appease my bruised, infantile ego. I even tried to start a playground war, though your bicycle wheels were immune to my grenades. Even still, the truth remained, that your disinterest dealt the harshest blows.

If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you, I fear, my sorrow would've won.

It wasn't until I grew some more, and fate reunited our airy spirits in fire.
Middle school solidified our bond,
and set the foundation for our lifelong alliance to transpire. We survived mutual losses hand in hand, and supported one another through life's many falls. Centuries from now, archaeologists will find, that you were painted on my ancient cavern walls, all along.

If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you, I fear, my sorrow would've won.

To this day, I cannot pretend, there is anyone who has been a more genuine friend. You've outlasted all the rest, to come out on top; without you, my dear, I fear, I never would've grown at all. Through objectivity and tough love, you appeal to my understanding of myself and of the world. Gratitude pales in comparison, to all the ways you enrich my soul.

If you weren’t here; what would I have done? If you weren’t near; who'd I have become? Without you, dear; my life is a gun. Without you, I fear, my sorrow would've won.

Ultraviolet.

Paint without apologies on life's chaotic canvas, since there is no one else who can fulfill your purpose. Dance with the watercolour winds, just like the wolves did. Whose poison tongue convinced you 'solo' is synonymous with 'worthless'? 

Listen to that tiny voice within you, the same one that whispers softer than the stars. On the surface, all is calm and steady, but do not wake this resting jaguar. 

Poor are they whose pleasures depend on another's permission. When you already enchant audiences like the magician, why do you settle for being his assistant?

Let your art mirror the beauty of your smile, cut and paste each piece of you until you're perfect. Show them the strength in being an unmanned isle, let them wonder if their dependency issues are worth it. 

You are capable enough to conquer Gengis Khan or Alexander. While all these reds need blues just to become purple, you already entered this world vibrant and violet. Always remember that you were destined to be their commander, instead of following orders, like some complacent copilot.