Sunday, November 9, 2008


Assalamualaikum bloggie....
aiighh...past few days have been hectic with nothing. I recovered my sleeps. I reunited with my motivation and I found bliss in submission. Fate is faith. Deal with it a.c.
Last night I dreamed of Cherng (yes...The Cherng) after months of ...his nupz, I have decided to move on without him. The dream was sad. He came to me crying in my arms, even in my dream, I still LOVE him! *sigh...* then again ..a dream is just a dream...i'm not into magic ball or tarot card....all I know he's ..gone....

Luckily, I woke up fine. The dream didn't affect me. May be my subconscious zone is telling his love will never die. His love remains... (isn't it pathetic..hehehehehe)
I came to work smiling. Looking forward to my days. No turning back. I have chosen this path. The journey has begun and I shall continue to thrive...

To fish, you are a Nemo I will never forget. Your presence sparks my day. Unfortunately, you are not meant for my aquarium. You're a passer-by send by Allah SWT to cheer up my days...He knows I'm lonely without not-so-many good friends around with superb sense-of-humor and brain like you do. We speak the same emotion and laugh the similar joke. It is beautiful. Life is beautiful, and yeah.. You are remarkable. Your presence is felt and duly noted. Like the Wind, you too will pass...I can only feel your breeze, yet I cannot keep you....

L OVERS, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the cage yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by,
To come again at dark.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.
Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.
But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.
( Robert Frost )

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