I visited a dead city once.
no roads, no shelters, no bodies.
There were only broken walls,
shattered roads, and souls –
an aftermath of war.
I believe that after our final lesson
of letting go of life,
the souls learn how to stay
and so among these ruins,
they kick back, relax, and love cosmically
because this graveyard was and is their home.
In the wreckage,
on some stones, I found epitaphs
“A. Stark, died protecting his family”.
On others, I found eulogies written by
one dead friend to another dead friend.
There was destruction here but also a promise
that these souls were safe
There was hate but also love,
my fear but also my hope.
I’m scared that the world will end in war,
that the last thing we’ll hear
will be a battlecry or the silent roars of bombs,
that we’ll go out with a big bang too.
We’ll fight for just a day too long
and spit curses,
catapulting us towards oblivion.
I’m afraid that with the flick of a switch,
we’ll ‘factory data reset’ the world
and just like that, cease to exist.
No more history, no more books, no more readers.
Just broken buildings and the howls
of nature. Smoke, ash, death.
I’m very scared that this tendency
of humans to fill in silences with noise
will lead us to destruction
because not many of us understand
that silences and peace are deep conversations
and war is small talk.
But I am also hopeful
that love will save some of us.
When the human call of death comes,
two young souls will hide.
People with hearts so in love that the universe
deems it too big a loss
to lose them.
I’ve always pictured these two kids
finding shelter in the deepest corners
of the world. If need be, the Earth will crack open
and keep them safe inside.
They’ll be put to sleep while heaven
sings them lullabies
and hell itself rises to protect them.
No war, no screams, no hate
will reach them.
And when they’re ready,
they’ll come back up
and be our next Adam and Eve.
I’m hopeful that something as magical
will bring us back to life.
Into stories? – Let’s live forever
Instagram – @myspirals
I know I’ve written a lot about war. Last one for quite some time, promise. Enjoy reading this, though! And please spread peace and love.
You have not seen ruins
The way 1945 has.
During the world war,
The schools that taught discipline
learned to have safety drills
and teach antonyms of peace.
The teenager that loved playing football
trained in the army
and often fought for the one thing bigger than him.
Weapons clashed so often,
it drowned all music,
and sang the lyrics of ‘Where we left off’.
I’ll share one story with you.
August 9, Nagasaki.
A three-year-old Yasujiro was playing in his house.
He was tearing the pages of a book
when he was blinded by a white light
like a million camera flashes.
Oh, how I wish it was really just cameras.
He was found under the debris of his house
among many other things
like his broken toys and an open book.
He’s grateful to have survived
But he lost so many things that mattered
His sleep, his hearing, his will to live.
He is happy now.
When someone knows they’ll die
and they get to send one last message
it is always filled with love
it is always an ‘I love you’
an ‘I will miss you’.
You know why?
Because they do,
Is war really worth the open book?
Instagram handle: @myspirals
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What has music been for you? Let me know in the comment section below! Enjoy reading. Instagram handle: @myspirals
“Music is a safe kind of high.” – Jimi Hendrix
Music is a language, a medicine and a magic trick. Dance to it.
- Music was his mother-tongue. His tongue fumbled when he spoke English as if it were a foreign language that he hadn’t heard all his life, but when he was alone, he hummed a tune and did not miss a single note. He stuttered and shied away from conversations with strangers, but sang songs with a broad grin around camp fires. When he wasn’t feeling alright, he would shut out completely and listen to music as he thought and thought about what had gone wrong, but you could find small clues hidden in his playlist to make him feel alright.
- Her soul had been crushed into absolute pieces and her heart had cuts all over. There was a constant ache, that seemed to run like blood in her veins and pillows couldn’t drown it out. But earplugs seemed to drive the pain away completely, or at least numb it. As the lyrics stopped her mind from wandering about, and the music brought her a much-needed gift, she could smile without wanting to scream. Music was her band-aid and no one could rip it off her scars. For her, music was like a steady dose of pain-killers and peace. Music was the only pillow that could drown out the screams, and it was the only shoulder she could cry on.
- He was broke and broken, but managed to get into the bar right across the street. He needed to feel lost and alive, and so he stepped onto the dance-floor swarmed with broken hearts and night-outs. The music was loud enough to make him disappear as his feet moved about in an unsteady pace. The broken pieces of his heart rattled against each other, but no one could hear it. The pieces slammed against each other and broke into smaller pieces until all that was left was dust. He smiled as he took the dust and blew on it, as if it were fairy-dust and his wishes were going to come true.
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