Hymn to Sekhmet

If you ever need strength, whether to face your fears or just to bring yourself back from the brink of an insane world, try reciting this hymn to the Goddess Sekhmet.


Mine is a heart of Carnelian, crimson as murder on a holy day. Mine is a heart of cornel, the gnarled roots of dogwood and the bursting of flowers. I am the broken wax seal on my lover's letters. I am the phoenix, the fiery sun, consuming and resuming myself. I pace the halls of the underworld. I knock on the doors of death. I walk into the fields to stare at the sun and lie on the green grass, ripe as a fig. The souls of the gods are with me. They hum like flies in my ears. I am I. I will what I will.
Mine is a heart of Carnelian, blood red as the crest of a phoenix.

The Power of Songs

I sent you a song today.

I forgot how powerful songs can be. It was a song that moved me. Made me teary-eyed.

I thought you'd just see it as a deep, slightly-melancholic song. I didn't know it'd make you cry. If I'd known, I wouldn't have sent it to you.

Songs are powerful indeed. With great power, comes great responsibility.

I shall send only cheerful songs to you from now on.

Gomenasai.

A journey has ended. A new one has begun.

So we have transitioned. I'm happy for us. Really.

We've been together for 409 days. That's one year, one month and a half.
I'll always remember this journey with you. It was beautiful.

And now we embark on a new one together. I promise you this: It'll be as beautiful as the last.

I love you. And I'll always love you.

*my pinkie finger hooked around yours* PROMISE.

Romantic Married Couple

Last night, I heard some music from my lawn.

Jane Monheit's Over the Rainbow is drifting in the air. I went to have a peek.

Found Lip Keong and Sabrina having a mini-BBQ all by themselves in dim-lit candlelights with a music system playing soft music.

They must've missed each other so much after being separated for so long. You see, Sabrina has to fly off often to far-flung corners of the world for her work. I always wondered how a marriage can stay strong under such circumstances. What holds them together?

Now I have the secret answer! Mini-BBQ!

So what do I really want from you?

I don't want to barge into your life.
I don't want you to need me to the point that you'll open the door and drag me inside.
I want you to invite me in. So we can share a cup of hot cocoa on a rainy night and snuggle up to each other to watch a movie.
That would be nice.

Somebody

I don't want a person who will need me like crack, or depend on me like a crutch.

That's too cruel.

I have no words of my own better than the words of Depeche Mode.
I'm sorry that my supposed "forte" of words fail me here.

I want somebody to share
Share the rest of my life
Share my innermost thoughts
Know my intimate details
Someone who'll stand by my side
And give me support
And in return
She'll get my support
She will listen to me
When I want to speak
About the world we live in
And life in general
Though my views may be wrong
They may even be perverted
She'll hear me out
And won't easily be converted
To my way of thinking
In fact she'll often disagree
But at the end of it all
She will understand me

I want somebody who cares
For me passionately
With every thought and
With every breath
Someone who'll help me see things
In a different light
All the things I detest
I will almost like
I don't want to be tied
To anyones strings
I'm carefully trying to steer clear of
Those things
But when I'm asleep
I want somebody
Who will put their arms around me
And kiss me tenderly

The Loveliest Story I've Ever Read

I'd like to believe forever that this is about us. Don't tell me everything in your blog is fiction. It would shatter my world and my heart to learn that this is not about us.

So don't ever tell me, if this is not true. Let me believe.

And this is the story you wrote, about us...

"
It is dusk. You are here with me, and we’re sitting with our backs to a cliff, eyes to the water ahead, our daughter burying our feet in sand with a little plastic shovel, the tide coming in. We interlock fingers. You hum something and then stop quickly and kiss my bare shoulder warmed by the sun. I pretend to be reading and you tickle me slightly, leaning your head down trying to catch my eye so I smile. I do. You know this trick works every time.

When the water slurps the last of the sun we gather our things and make the walk back to our house on the cliff, the sides weathered by the salt air. We are neighbourless and it’s something I’ve wanted for a lifetime – my family, the water, the quiet of the road leading towards it. Our home has a wrap-around porch with peeling pillars and squeaky wood floors with two sturdy rocking chairs along the edge pointing towards the sea. We sit here in silence, clutching hands and hearts, watching the sailboats come in.

At night we sit with our daughter in front of the inset fireplace, laughing as she tumbles and makes funny exclamations, and this, this is what I've always wanted - to feel my heart so full of love I fear it might burst. We soon dress her and lay her down for the night and you take my hand, your eyes smiling, towards the turret room you built years ago – an observatory, because you know my fixation with stars. You run a soft finger down the side of my face and along my chin and gently lift my chin up to find your lips, ready, as they have been for years in this room. Under your stare I pull away and tell you in a whisper, that I need you more than having air to breathe. You take that away from me enough, anyway.

Our bodies move in motion to a song in our heads. I tell you, when your hands move expertly across my skin, that I’m drunk with you and you know what that means. This is how it goes without speaking – just gentle sounds erupting and reverberating off of the glass windows.

In the morning we walk a short mile along the cliff to our favourite produce stand and buy ripe peaches, mangoes, and blueberries for breakfast. You put a blueberry on my tongue and put your other hand into the small of my back. This is the time when I adore you the most – those subtle touches that leave imprints on my skin.

And later, while watching waves on the beach surrounded by summer, I tell you this is how it will be for the rest of our days
and you believe me.
"