Positively Yours: The Diaries of a Pessimist

I will dream of you. Among the lonely paths of life, While I walk alone in the boulevards While autumn leaves depart from the branches That were their home And float softly in the breeze Only to settle lingeringly on my shoulders. I will dream of you. I will dream of you, In the midst of the snowy peaks, Where the heavens meet the earth And the sunshine illuminates the icy expanse As if cajoling a jilted lover. While I sit amongst the cold wilderness, I will dream of you. I will dream of you, Near the shores of the streams, Which move ever so elegantly through the trees While I rest in their shade, Reading an unfinished book, Whilst listening to the sounds of the brook That echo memories of the past, I will dream of you. I will dream of you, Amid the busy streets, Where the cost of life is but a fleeting glance Where a thousand dreams are born and die In a mere second. While I roam these jungles, I will dream of you. All this while, When you dream of...

Blessed is the mind that can ask a question. For curiosity is the fuel for innovation. Think of the lives we would have lead, If cave men lacked imagination. Curiosity may have killed the cat, But it eggs on civilization. For the greatest leaps in history, Were not born out of trepidation. But can there be too many questions? Or some that ought not be asked? For the burden in their contemplation, May be too much for the mind to bear. It's a road I've often traversed, It's a cross I often bore, It's these questions that have brought me To the edges of an endless shore. These waters have no end, And I, no strength to explore. I shall drift along with the wind And go where it leads me. The unanswered questions surround me But they don't haunt me anymore.

“And let there be light!” he said. Thus I believe the universe was heralded; in the glow of divine flash bulb. Tiny embers must have rolled out of the heavenly bonfire, and strange devices they would seem, bellowing off steam for their very existence; oddly reminiscent of certain noxious humans which were to come several ages thence. Tiny as they were, these devices conceived even tinier contraptions. Innocuous and gullible, a little Earth must have wiggled in the radiance of its mother. Since then life surged; and has never ceased to stop. Life goes along its path, never meaning to stop. Ever so nimble, yet so staunch. It commands its minions in an endless march, moving meticulously with the beat of time. Hitherto, when a new life is born, it chases after the splendor of a butterfly. Alluring and irresistible, the wings of creativity threaten to stray this diminutive mouse from the piper’s entourage. Or does it? Cold and harsh hands tug him along the predestined path, impassive eye...

In the dusty roads of life, The heart searches for a friend. In the lonely walks of love, The soul longs for a companion. The darkness of the skies, Dampen the once high spirits. The dreary clouds, Crush the mind's lingering hope. The light that awaits me, Seems to flicker at the distance. And the tunnel seems to stretch, Without an end. Though my legs lack the strength, My sinews carry on the fight. Though my heart has given up, My blood flows hot.

Drip... A bead drips down my brow. The days aren't getting any colder Tired and wary I lay on the floor. The still moments making me slightly older. Drip....A bead flows down my chin. The nostalgia hits me hard. The sagacious dreams of my youth. Seem pretentious ramblings of a listless bard. Drip...As it wets my neck. The guilt of a thousand tribulations weighs me down The light at the end seems hazy And thorns adorn the image of the anticipated crown. Drip..It rolls down my arms The words come slower now Mutilated in the squalor of my existence They have abandoned me with my thoughts in tow. Drip...I hear a splash The journey has reached its end The bead rolls along the floor Mutilated before I could make amends. I gaze away and clear the smoke And a lonely stupor engulfs me in its thrall I roll around And wait for another bead to fall.

I try and I try to forget The days of my youth But the memories of the innocence Keep slipping my grasp The days spent wondering Of things we could become The nights spent complaining Of girls we couldn't court The months in the heat Roaming aimlessly tween the corridors The moments we huddled In the winter's cold I miss the shoulders That I'd taken for granted I miss the bonds That I believed would never break The green grass The empty class The broken heart The cold hearth They all remind me Of the best days of my life Of the days spent free of strife Of friends and promises Made between brothers