The dreamers of the day are dangerous people,
For they dream their dreams with open eyes,
And make them come true.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Three Cups of Chai
The soft silk against the cane caricature. It's comfortable, it's enduring, it's the perfect place to have the first cup of chai of the day. It's the place where I like to see the raindrops fall and the sun rise and sometimes fade away behind the leaves. The worries of the world are farthest away from me. Here I protect myself, here I am protected by myself. Here the scent of my being is intertwined in the lace of the curtains, here the hues of the evening lamp shed their shadows on the memories that decorate my walls. The place where I sit and giggle away with the girls and etch out to-do lists. I make my plans here and fold away pieces of it. I hide my writings somewhere in the between the towers of books and paint the whites, red. The colors in my closet that splash alive my world and the fresh spring of the lilies fumigate every thing beautiful. It's my bean stalk up high above in the skies before I step down into the world. It's my happy place on some unhappy days and my corner away from my home. It is my home.
The balcony seat on the second floor of that coffee shop. The place where I sit and share my second cup of tea with my thoughts. My music and my words. Where I pick up the old museum ticket from the word I read last and lay it down to age a little more. The feet up, the seat laid back and then the blue color on my toes catches my eye as I try to focus but who's watching? A moment when I like to see the world through my camera lens. Snapshot every frame that sparkles my mind just that little bit. A sip for every story started and one idea or the other sorted. I picture conversations here, I hold memories in that corner, I breathe life into wishes of times to come. The space for chaotic submission and sporadic flight. Ideas fly, leap into the atmosphere of aspirations, and then drown in that cup of chai.
An evening along the shoreline perhaps. The waves motioning in a direction but my pulse racing into the exact opposite. Their crashing takes me up high and settles me back down. The quickest tease of one's life I suggest. The breeze a brilliant swing, romancing with the echos of silence. The jazz playing in the distance, almost like my yellow scarf flutters with the tunes. A sense of belonging, a relief of completion, the strength to step up, down, but mostly away, and a perfect companion named life. My fingers warm themselves around last cup of chai for the day. The one that takes you home and tucks you away.
The balcony seat on the second floor of that coffee shop. The place where I sit and share my second cup of tea with my thoughts. My music and my words. Where I pick up the old museum ticket from the word I read last and lay it down to age a little more. The feet up, the seat laid back and then the blue color on my toes catches my eye as I try to focus but who's watching? A moment when I like to see the world through my camera lens. Snapshot every frame that sparkles my mind just that little bit. A sip for every story started and one idea or the other sorted. I picture conversations here, I hold memories in that corner, I breathe life into wishes of times to come. The space for chaotic submission and sporadic flight. Ideas fly, leap into the atmosphere of aspirations, and then drown in that cup of chai.
An evening along the shoreline perhaps. The waves motioning in a direction but my pulse racing into the exact opposite. Their crashing takes me up high and settles me back down. The quickest tease of one's life I suggest. The breeze a brilliant swing, romancing with the echos of silence. The jazz playing in the distance, almost like my yellow scarf flutters with the tunes. A sense of belonging, a relief of completion, the strength to step up, down, but mostly away, and a perfect companion named life. My fingers warm themselves around last cup of chai for the day. The one that takes you home and tucks you away.
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