Not quite healed, not quite pained
Not quite strong, but quietly still.
Not quite joy, not quite sorrow
Not a muted hymn, but lingering truth.
Not quite whole, not quite broken
Not permanent, but always real.
Periwinkle doesn't choose
It hums between, loud and true.

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The rage of the dying light
Smokescreen and spitting fire-
Wonder if there is a phoenix to the blackbird!
As the chaos unfurls
While Entropy reaches its maximum,
The world is in precarious equilibrium

Heaven and Earth,
Would you be the phoenix to my blackbird?

- Roddsi

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Passion project

Run 'em ragged
Walk me through--
The non linear path
Dared gainsay the confluence
Of a strewn across mixed reality.
Strumming the echoes
To the beats of life,
Riding high into the sunset
With:
Fire in her belly
Icy cold eyes
Give me strength
Show 'em light

- Roddsi

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Zoom in? Zoom out? Nada.

I often wonder what it feels like to be void of that thing which keeps you in check. Some call it direction, others call it a chokehold. For instance, you are told to be grounded which might be good for you. And next we see you rubbing shoulders with the mass lost at sea. Well, how about we get on a vantage point and look at the bigger picture then? Well, then you would not be empathetic enough as you would have distanced yourself from the crowd below. So where do we belong? According to maths, you should confine that bird to a cage. But, you already know that's impossible. Neither here, nor there. That's why we have values and principles, theoretically speaking. Can we use it as leverage? Might give it a try.

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I was playing football with my colleagues on a rainy evening where I was tasked to man the goalpost. The first goal went past my outstretched hands by a mile. The next teased my embarassed limbs. I concentrated hard on the movement of the ball 'in front'. By then, I was pretty sure that the big boys were starting to regret having a girl play on the team in the first place. And this thought egged me to prove that wrong. I stepped 'back' until my back made contact with the goalpost. From here, I could actually see the boundaries of the goalpost. In that moment, I painted the picture in my mind and marked my territory. And I did not miss a single one after that.
I wish I would exercise the same in life.

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Have you felt the anticipation building when you travel alone or as you wait for your non-existent friend while stirring the murky layers of your cuppa? Surely. The common thread is that singular thought that fills your gut and not the coffee. Who will be your travel buddy? Who will be that person next seat, who stirs the coffee too, waiting for the imaginary meeting? You try to single out the singled. Eventually you find your person. And then the unexpected happens. You fall into a rhythm(or that person falls into yours?). You try to match their pace. Of eating, of possibilities, of expectations. When the person tugs, you let them. The sync is on and you enjoy the moment while it lasts. Is that person conscious of what you’re trying to do? I would like to nod to that.
Unspoken words. A comfortable camaraderie.
Actions do speak louder than words. 

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The facade behind the verse
Infiltrated the dying truth.
Thy ignorance aversed
The very conscience.
Deserving of the onyx
Yet prepared to be the outlaw.
Sweet Ophelia!
Look what you've become.— % &

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What would the world be like?
If we had autocorrect and autocomplete
For the north star.
Would the world be a better place?
Would we be able to see clearly what lay ahead,
As our star sparkled too bright?

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Walking down this muddy road,
I picked up a lone golden leaf, tempting fate.
A sincere ritual it was, where I did not question its lone appearance,
As I trudged along time, picking pieces.
Knees bent and eyes glued to the path,
My past life caught up with me and I finally looked up.
By then, I had collected my scattered pieces.
Stitching together time and memories,
I succeeded.
The halcyon days, resurrected.

-

When lie lies, isn't lie telling another lie?

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