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Seeing her, always, was like glimpsing at a ray of hope. It was always just a glimpse. It flickered in her eye, and an instant later it was gone. Their story is one that would not see an end. It played on through space and time, waging war, making peace, breathing, expanding, eternal. Waiting to see her was torturous. The anxiety, piercing, stabbed at the heart slowly, with precision and care to exact the desired amount of pain. It carried with it the weight of recollections from times long gone. In a parallel universe, she and him were making love every second of every waking hour, everywhere they were. Making love had very little to do with joining body organs in their narrative. Their two hearts sang the same song; it echoed between her body and his. In a parallel universe, everywhere she roams is where he most likely will be found. In this universe, he could only glimpse at her shyly. He could only hope that he's not going crazy. It felt insane to him that he could he be the

Very few people ever venture too far away from home. It seems an accepted norm to live, work and die where one is born. That is the legacy of many a South African. To leave, for any reason - even the ones that make great logical sense, is dangerous. There is not enough infrastructure to sustain residents, let alone squatters in foreign residents' lands. This is the true narration of what happened in my own life at a time when I believed myself to be unconquerable. I journeyed South, towards the Eastern Province. It was meant to be my victory expedition. I was meant to become far greater than I had already transformed in my own world. My world lies in distant Pretoria, in the North. What would bring a Northern child to the remote Eastern Province, many have asked. The reply to this is and always will be simple. I am in love. I was in love before I left home - illusioned by the idea that perhaps she wished to be with me too. I believed - against all logic - that she and I could

Dear Beautiful You will probably never see this, although a part of me wishes that you do someday. Maybe then you will understand that at this very point in time (2 June 2013), there is nothing on earth I wouldn't give up for the chance to hold you in my arms again and love you - as you deserve to be loved. You've been strong and holding on alone all this time and it's not fair! It's never been fair. It shouldn't have happened to you. It shouldn't happen to anyone! I love you with all my being. A part of me will always love you. And I guess you'll never truly know this unless you learn to trust me. Love Abandoned

It starts with a glance, followed by a smile and a wave. That's how it has always started: with a glance, a smile and a wave. How it ends, on the other hand, is never as simple. There are tears, whispered lies uttered to escape the pain that comes with the truth. That's how it ends; not always, though. Sometimes, the tears are masked behind veils of words not said. Sometimes the whispered lies give way to earth-shattering silences which weigh heavily on the heart. The beginning and the end may be unavoidable certainties, but the magic in between is what makes the memories worth cherishing through the dark, lonely nights. The memory of a touch; the passionate kiss that stopped time where it stood. The memory of a voice overflowing with emotion so intense that the body succumbs to uncontrollable quivers as the passion and the raw love envelop two hearts united by a force that many call love. The space between where it starts and where it ends is immeasurable. To the fortunate, i

It was morning. Again. A new day. It looked exactly like the last one. And the one before that. It was beautiful. It always is. Life was beautiful then. It still is now, but it was at it's most beautiful then. It was late-spring, the morning after Halloween. Halloween was extremely unappreciated in those days, and so the evening of Halloween had been as uneventful as all others before it had been. There were no costumes, no adventures. In a room, in a building that looked as though it had been a secure institution in its past life, in an institution, we eight sat and contemplated doing something. Then Uncle rose. He has a staff. It's a beautiful staff. We all have staffs. No serious Wielder doesn't own a staff. Uncle rose. Everybody noticed when uncle rose. Uncle is noticable. He has a beard. He has no hair on his head or face, but a beard. He says he shaves his eyebrows to make himself lighter, and keeps the beard as it makes landing easier. He was the first of us to fly

As far as endings go, this one could be worse. It isn't. I remember how it started out. I was wide-eyed, young and pretty over the edge as far as stability goes. I had aspirations towards a future in journalism. That ship has sailed for me. The life of a journalist has long since lost its appeal. Time is a rather temperamental mistress. She swallows the unworthy whole, leaving them in pools of blood and shame. Broken dreams are a reality for some. It seems I was worthy, for I was spared in time. The beginning is no dissimilar at all from the end. We choose the lives we lead for ourselves. Our choices aren't always smart, or well contrived, but they are always for the best. I chose love and happiness in the end. I came into this dream not expecting it to end. This was not a practical ideal. All things end. The memories, however, are infinite. I have a few. I remember the time I decided to turn back and say hello. My life changed that afternoon. All I wanted was to fill the ho

There is something very therapeutic in thinking about crashing and burning. There is something quite inviting in never again having to feel a human emotion. Had you known what it was like to crash and burn, perhaps then life would have made sense to you way back when you wondered if there was any meaning to life. The meaning exists, it's always been and will always be very simple. It is simple. That is the meaning. Simple as that. Very simple to remember it. It simply is, so simply be. Not very hard. Yet, you missed it. You continued worrying about this and that instead of worrying about never having to worry again. Yeah, you're reading this - funny how you dared ask who this is all about without instinctively thinking that perhaps it is address directly to the eyes reading this. Words. We are nothing but words floating here and there and everywhere. A name. A title. A business card. An other word meaning an other thing at another random place where the most random wordly th

The living Moment through the Perspective of One who knows nothing other than that he is writing this By- Unknown The story went another way. Instead of wandering, disparate and baron in uncharted, unsheltered lands; the onesome traveller found shelter. It was a roof, with a bed, and doors with a key that were all in his possession. Life was ideal. In another place, at another time, he sat in front of a screen and silently prayed to be in his own place. All he desired was his own space. It was intense how he had prayed and toiled and did every single thing he could in exchange for just this; a chance to reunite with his flame. She who means the very universe to him. It was neither here nor there where they would meet in secret, outside of space and outside of time. They simply were. And together, everywhere they roamed was home. He, One, on the other hand prayed simply for a roof that he may share with her. In the exact same place in another time and space, one walked into a

1. Herophant In the beginning of the allness, there lived a catterpillar. The caterpillar was pink. It crawled a little on it's belly to the leaf, and started biting into it. The caterpillar bit and chewed and swallowed. As it grew thicker, so too did the space around it begin closing in around the pink caterpillar. The pink caterpillar was soon engulfed by a warm, moist web of leaf. The pink caterpillar continued biting and chewing, and pleasure never seemed to end. Until, suddenly, there was light. The pink caterpillar knew this was light, for it definitely was not dark. The pink caterpillar bit into the light. Falling. A paw. Wind. She knew it was wind. There was no other word for it. She knew the word, because the thought had always been there. Wind. Wings. These were her's. She had wings. Her eyes opened, and she realized that somewhere between her first bite of leaf, at that very moment, she had developped a gender. She knew it was gender. It's always been. It was

A Family that prays together, feasts together at the Great Altar On the Waxing Moon of the Ninth Month Of the twenty-third year Of the Fifth cycle Of m’Lord, There convened a covenant of three, With a Fourth, to oversee And they cast their prayers to the most High and they let it bee. Most High, hear these prayers, for the hearts that speak Speak true. Let this bee, for it was written to be. We offer this Song, this Psalm, this Act in unity as One Aimen

Imagine Imagine a world in peace. Imagine it happening right now. See yourself in it. Let our sound guide you to the motion to the flow of the ocean it’s that motion that emotion… It’s nice.  It’s just, nice … you know? It’s nice to have people around you that know who you are. It makes this shared dream … special. So, there are some of us who dared imagine. We were beat down by people who told us they loved us. We were broken apart by strangers who stole our power in the dark of the hour. Nobody should ever finna take what aint his. It’s not right; it’s never okay to fight. There’s no “higher cause”, war on terror, creepy folk breaking into every house in the hood it’s all a dream; and we’re the ones creating it. So let’s stop, let’s imagine being another way. We can all start afresh today. Open a brand new chapter. All it takes, is a leap of Faith. Imagine all the people sharing earth in peace. Lennon is trippy.

It was never intentional. It never had to be this way. But it was. Anthony had to live with the decisions he had made. He just never expected it to be this hard. It was the sexual tension, he always believed. Now he knew it was far deeper than that. It was love. Jo never meant to push him away. She had never really wanted him to leave her. She really loved him, and she wanted nothing else than to be with him. He wasn’t hers to be with  any more . It hurt. It was love. They walked, together, a giant, unnatural void between them where their hands should meet. Their hands fit. He remembered this. She hid it in a distant folder somewhere deep in her mind. So they walked. It was strange. Exhilarating! But strange. “I’m leaving, Jo,” Anthony said. He really wished she would take him by the hand and kiss him. She didn’t. He knew she wouldn’t. “I know,” she replied. She really wished he would just kiss her. He didn’t. She knew he couldn’t. So they walked on. They sat at a park and she li

There's always wind. That day, it was gentle.  Gentle , Leo remembered. And it had carried a faint scent of some or other especially sweet flower. The wind blew Nadine's hair into his face as she rested her own against his chest. She felt it heave as he inhaled.  Deep Breath . The smell of her shampoo reminded him of a memory, but he wasn't sure which. He wished he had kissed her. But he understood why he couldn't. There had once been a time when he would have. But now he couldn't. And so he simply allowed himself to melt as deep into her embrace as he could. He wondered if she could feel everything he was experiencing. He closed his eyes as hers opened and closed again. She let herself sink into his arms. She wished he would kiss her. She pulled him closer and wished that he could somehow hear her thoughts.  Kiss me,  she thought over and over again. She knew he wouldn't. Something told her that he would soon enough, but she knew he wouldn't have done it

Letsatsi! a timeless tragedy A young man of colour goes through the motions of daily life, toiling under the Sun, while still hoping that more people would realize that there was more to life than toiling. His lamentations are joined by voices of his subconscious. Part 1: Love Life Act 1 Scene 1 A mother and her son stand staring at one another in a kitchen. Adam:             (Agitatedly) Mom, you really don't understand me or what I do at all. So please, just be quiet. Mom:               (meekly) This is what I get for suffering all these years for you. You treat me like rubbish. You don't talk to me nice. You're always pretending to know me and you're Rude. Adam:             (Calmingly) You refuse to listen, and yet you demand to be heard. Mom:               (Irritably) You see! There you go, pretending to know me. You don't know me! You don't even see what I have done for you. You're ungrateful. Adam:             (Calm) I see eve

Jabulani lay awake in bed. He was lonely, scared and tired. There had been no warning, no indication that being free of the institution would be this hard. A month ago he had it all: love, respect, purpose. Now, he had only faith and hope that soon things would be as they were meant to be. He sat, cross-legged, and closed his eyes. "Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. Where there is sadness, joy. Oh divine master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console. To be understood, as to understand. To be loved, as to love. For it is in giving that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned. And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life." He repeated the words of St France's prayer over and over again. He felt the words resonating through his body, which felt to be float