Along The Vast

Ocean. Space. Mind.

Hopeful Transition

She can’t help but to cry
in the morning,
in the afternoon,
in the evening.
But the day isn’t all about
sadness and fear

There are still
the dawn,
the twilight,
the dusk.
And these will remind you
that the day,
no matter how hard it was,
will eventually end.

Just think that
the moon,
the sun,
the stars,
are always there for you.
People that look at the
same side like you do.

You are never alone.


A Foggy Vision

Your eyes are
the universe.

They are as round
as the moon,
and as black
as the night sky.

Like the stars
they are glistening.
But the void is emerging
as I stare at them.

Tell me,
what it is that
your eyes are longing for?

Because mine are
craving for your smile.
I need to look into your eyes,
my universe,
my star in the night sky.



We get sad maybe because we’re not ready yet to be happy. Or maybe, just maybe, we’re still not ready for anything. That when the day we finally get to be happy, we’ll get afraid that it will not last long enough, that it will also leave us.

I am lost, and you are still searching. But if we finally find each other, will we be ready? I know we’re both sad so when our eyes meet, it creates a world where the two of us is prepared. But I don’t think that world is ready for us yet. It’s like us, hiding behind a torrential rain.

It’s like us, still not ready to be happy.


Hiding and Falling

You are the first person
I think of
on a rainy night.

I think of us,
just laying,
contemplating about life.

The rain, however,
was never
on my side.

It’s pouring
from my eyes.

I can’t have you, love.

The Reason It Comes At Night

A boy didn’t go to sleep one night. The evening was rather full of sad winds and howling of the free minds. All of these kept him awake, and by that he took on a venture along the deserted road outside.

He was sure that while he was walking, the cold air was whispering something. It said follow all the street lights. The posts however, were all grays and had dull bulbs, flickering and staying alive. Nevertheless he went off and let the moon lift him up as high as the cloud.

There he saw what the lights look like from above. No, the neighborhood wasn’t as sorrowful as it may seem. It was sparkling, like the stars.
The sight was magical, but the boy suddenly fell off and hit the ground.

“Why should it end, when it seems like it’s eternal from the very start?”, asked the boy.
And the sad winds and loud minds answer him.
“That’s the reason it comes at night child, to let you wander when you can’t, to make you happy when you’re sad, to make you realize. But that doesn’t mean it has end. It is eternal just like you. So now get up, for the vast space is waiting for you to discover them, just like you did when you choose to fly.”

Noir #3

Nearly Witches, Panic! at the Disco

Photo, edit by me

Me, The 1975

Photo, edit by me


Photo, edit by me

For The Never Fluctuating Light

Ma, I made a poem
about you.
It might not be
as beautiful as you are,
but I hope
this shows
how much I love you.

Words couldn’t explain
the light you gave
ever since I first
saw the world.

For you’re a poetry,
a bright moon to the
falling eyes.
A paragraph that has
no definite end,
rhyming with every
cries of your child.

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