Monday, December 29, 2008


from childhood,
we are taught our RIGHTS,
our right from our left,
and most importantly right from wrong.
we are taught the difference between the good and the bad,
a clear distinction made between the two, with no grey areas.

from childhood,
we are asked to make choices, the RIGHT choices.
and from lessons learnt from life, we know 100% which choices to make (80% of the time)

we know not to be rude,
not to have feelings for a certain somebody
not to drink, smoke, gamble


we have little chance against falling,
we have no choice.

why is it not as simple as that.
why is it hard, difficult, sometimes even impossible.


is it cos of certain circumstances? 
the irony of choice is that sometimes there are no choices,
just illusions of choices. 

sometimes we think we have choices,

loving and not loving, wanting and not wanting, giving and not giving...

most times we dont.

isnt that why we 
take what we shouldnt have, 
love who we shouldnt love

isnt that why we make so called wrong choices, because we never really had choices. 
isnt that why we all have made wrong choices at some points in life because we're all subject to this. 
we ackowledge and regret it, but we enjoyed it all the same. 
that moment of wrong doing, thinking ... (when the classy uptown chic falls for the scruffy downtown hustler..)

and thinking about it, 
given the same circumstances again, we would make that same choice, 
maybe we never really have options or choices,

just illusions.
and if there were choices or options, 
maybe the wrong ones were more enticing, attractive ... 
(why do good girls like bad guys, why do people lie, cheat, steal, gamble???)  

the illuison of choices, 
the irony of life or the weakness an denial of man?

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Aedh Wishes for the Clothes of Heaven

been quite a bit, i stumbled over this poem and i tot to share it wit u!

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, 
Enwrought with golden and silver light, 
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths 
Of night and light and the half light, 
I would spread the cloths under your feet: 
But I, being poor, have only my dreams; 
I have spread my dreams under your feet; 
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

by William Butler Yeats