A Two-Colored Brocade

Sometimes I burn like a
candle from expectation;
sometimes I weep like a
spring cloud.
You see the candle's
radiance and are happy,
but you don't see the fire
at its head.

It's one of the things which you wouldn't notice normally, something which you live with day by day, but you just sort of ignore its being there. Just like the air, so evident yet so transparent. You wouldn't see it unless it's coloured or pressurized. When you leave the library and walking down the hill towards the parking lot at around 2245 with 18 books in your arms and less than 2 months till the deadline you feel what you've always known, that you are by yourself.

Hands

My uni staff email account expired today, 3 months after I left the position. I knew it was today, but I didn't realize today was it. It's gone, just like that, following the contingent nature of all things ever existed, are and will be brought into being. You reach out your hands in a futile attempt to contain the water falling from the shower nozzle high above. They stayed there for a while and the next second they showed their obedience to Gravity. You may ask "why?" even though you've already known the answer.

Magdalena asked me last year whether I would feel sorry should I failed to get the position. I said I wouldn't for what was there to sorry about that was never yours? Like if you were never born, you wouldn't be sorrying about your non-existence, would you? But, well, it's not an appropriate example because you do feel sad regarding, say, relationship that never has the chance to materialize which is of course never yours.