Esoterical Man

"Blessed are those who have not seen yet have believed...in the faith itself"

How nauseating to be near the crowd of wolf who is pretending to be a lamb. Things may be rotten. The more obnoxius feeling you feel again when a person put himself in their axis, in the midst of wolf, in which one is never realized that being a wolf is counterfactual. A lamb they are. Without betrayal. Without stoning. Without guilty feeling. The consideration shows in the moment of doing the truth on the basis of happiness. The unguided happiness.

There were times when you took a glance in a person who was alone on the river bank while was sitting with raging thoughts in his head. There were times when he was among the crowd who drowned his existence in his head. Lately, did you avoid your chirping mind? Did you know? Did you know that was the most thing I like about you. Your chirping mind. It was not a flaw. In fact, it was a 'less' in your flaw. One who has not a weakness is a walking dead. You know how your thoughts pointed me to ring out, in the moment you just stunned in a daydream. Clock is ticking. Song is repeating one. Feet can not stop budge, hands can't help not to knock on the table. The kind of silence that I enjoy along with one's range of vision on some specific occassion that sweep delivered both sound and sight on mind, in a series of particular pixel in the air.

Why are you so afraid. Do not put yourself in a deny. One's room already filled in emptiness all of sudden. Why are you holding back? One is formed on the contents of the question. But you'd never ask. Now I ask, would you go back to linger in a standing aversion where it puts you in a position at the end of the road, wiping your forehead, breathing heavily of night's air. It's too late to smile. It's too late to hug the wind tight. The winds transform into hurricane that blows your feet. Would you see yourself again? Would you see yourself in a one's memory reminds it?

How happy being in the crowd of the wolf who think theirselves as a lamb. Maybe, the lamb was just the part of the wolf. The wolfs who were never want to remember their essential of the being. You see the lamb? You see the man? He then turned into the lamb then into a wolf. He did not know. He doesn't know. He will ever know. But most of all, one knows that from the beginning he was a wolf. He never became a lamb.

... then , I lost my word. I saw a man who was sitting in back seat of the next car. That dreamy look of the soundless moment where overcrowding street, rain drops, and red light hit the month of December. The month of undignified quintessential. The month when certain things must go to an end. Of patterns I just see, I know he saw me, he was looking at me and smiled. How happy I am, hearing the voices raging in his mind. The voices of aimless love where sadness is just  a form of wisecrack in which despair feeds human soul. That is that made ​​me laugh. Clearly all of human origin is an error when it comes about the voices inside their heart. Misery is freedom in cage. One's freedom that condemned you with a lot of responsibility. A shelter, to sleep not to stay. I try to make you remember but not to keep you alarmed.

You are fine. It is a curse. It is a curse of being just fine. You know that you are fine. You just need not to stop to wish, you just need to stop hearing your voice. Let I remind you not to make the universe give its sign to stop you. You need to stop, sit down, enjoy a cup of coffee, steap a breaking dawn, and talk to a woman who is always there. One particular woman who you know is not going to go away. The reason why you back away as a matter of fact is the reason why you believe her. She can make you believe in something that you and yourself have no reason to believe, or even worse when you can't believe in anything...you know it not by chance, you can put the faith in her without any reason. She makes you believe of things you didn't see. In every contra subject, in every stubborn arguments, she makes you are doubting yourself, and believe in the end.

She seals your lips with a kiss. She tells that your arms is her home. She loves you. How she poisoned you is like how marxism acquired Russia. You know how marxism killed by the name of the religion in Indonesia, she can take down your world in bed just like that. In the night, boneless she makes you. But when the day starts, she makes you hang on. She makes you stay. She makes you know who you are, what things do you posses in this life, and how you handle the 'sound' of your breath. Others hear, she listens. Others see, she looks. Others hug, she caress you down. Others talk, she smiles.

You know you can't have her. And the moment you go, the regret comes as she is fading away...


Cibubur,
Thursday,December 12, 2013
in the peaceful rainy day.