Of death and dieing…

I've always been fascinated by the subject of death. Not so much the act itself, but the subtle message it passes across. I'm constantly amazed at how people associate death with the extremely negative, yet like Tu Face said, "Nobody wan die but dem wan go heaven".

Amazing.

So, death. What does it mean, really? Is it just the end of life as we know it, or the beginning of another? Is it a reminder of the fragility of life, prompting us to live better lives, or an annoying fun police prompting us to enjoy every teeny weenie bit of life before he comes for us?

I believe in the Christian belief about death. But most importantly, I view death as an ever-constant reminder that we should live our lives ultimately to lift up others. And when we do die, we will be judged by how we lived. Our names will either live on or die. In this case, death is the ultimate test of life.

As usual, another poem, a distraction from all the heavy stuff.

Untitled.

Man was made for joy and woe.

So said the poet of years before.

'Twas rightly said,

For now I know:

Man was made for joy

I was made for woe.

In the darkest night shines the brightest light

Yet beneath the light lays the deepest fright.

Thus begins my journey

And my plight:

Will I make it

Through the night?

Don't fail me now, O gleam of hope.

Let me not fall, let me not grope.

I know I'll yet drink from that well;

I do not know, I cannot tell.

I'm standing tall, I'm lying weak,

How do I find that which I seek?

Man was made for joy and woe,

I'll find my joy, for man is woe.

ok! ok! i you win! i've been tagged!

Rules (who needs 'em?):
1.link the person who tagged you. That'll be aloofar
2. Mention the rules in your blog…
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours...
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them…
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged...


i. When I was younger, I wished (or was it knew?) I was cyclops (X-men).

ii. There's always something urging me to jump from high places.

iii. I'm anti-establishment.

iv. In the dark, I close my eyes and feel my way around (I have no idea why).

v. I'm pretty sure I was in the secret service in my former life.

vi. I used to pronounce bridgestone (the tyre makers) "bridget stone"!


Now, I hearby tag...freaksho, smaragd, loomnie i'll tag the rest o'y'all later.

Take a chance on me!

Adba. Yup, that group we all grew up with (or in the case of some of you, you grew up with the remixes of their songs by some silly boy bands - no offence intended).

Yesterday evening, some smart guy decided to make us all nostalgic by playing some of Adba's hit songs like "knowing me, knowing you"; "take a chance on me" and the rest. It woked. Now I'm nostalgic. For real.

I miss the good 'ol days when we did nothing but laze around, eat, watch TV, laze some more...you know the drill.

Then your voice cracks. You like the girl sitting next to you at school. You ask for her pencil - or better still snatch it! You start growing up.

Life.

So, here I am just wondering, "how much of life is chance"? How much of life do we plan? Do we have any control?

In the light of our uncertainty of life, here's a poem I wrote last year that somehow touches on the subject.

Enjoy:


Heaven is just a breath away
And life is but a sigh.
The grass will fade like yesterday;
The end of time is nigh.
So pack your bags and wash yourself,
And rest while still you can.
For night is just a wink away;
I know not of the day.
2/2/2007

of puppets and puppeteers...

"For God's sake, act like a grown up!" I often wonder at time what the benchmarks for manhood are (well, aside the beards and other hairy showings and biceps - which in my case are hidden). Somehow it seems that the more we progress, the less we do. Figure that one out for yourself.

Today, I'm putting up one of my poems here, just to share my thots with you...you...you...you...

"Grow up!"

Untitled.

The birth of the man

Is not the babe’s demise,

For it will return

In quiet steps

Subtly rehearsed,

And reclaim its place,

Banishing the man

To eternal sleep.

Or maybe not;

It may decide

To vanish,

Yet live side by side –

An impact here,

A showing there.

Ever the perfect

Puppeteer.