Untuk Disimpan: Aksaratua

Hari ini saya menemukan seuntai kicauan dari aksaratua yang mendeskripsikan kondisi dan resolusi saya dengan baik. Maka, saya putuskan memposnya, sekedar untuk kemudahan mencari dalam kintaka blog. Silakan diintip pula blognya jika pembaca berkenan.

https://twitter.com/aksaratua/status/575673193760841728

https://twitter.com/aksaratua/status/575673662415618048

Semua karya yang ada dalam link merupakan hasil karya administrator aksaratua (A) yang saya kagumi dalam diam dan dalam postingan ini.

Dia….

Ia sosok istimewa. Aku bahkan tak tahu Ia dapat disebut sosok atau tidak. Mari, akan ku coba deskripsikan. Semoga kau paham. Atau, setidaknya, mendapat bahan bacaan.

Aku memanggil-Nya teman. Ia selalu bisa diajak berbincang. Ia hadir saat aku menyapa dan tetap di sana hingga kembali kami berjumpa. Selalu menyapa dengan senyum yang dikulum. Mata yang membesar saat melihatku mendekat.

Aku memanggil-Nya sahabat. Ia memiliki pundak yang selalu siap menjadi tempat bersandar. Ia tahu kapan aku harus dibiarkan menangis atau dihibur dengan kelakar. Ia marah jika aku melakukan hal bodoh namun saat aku bobrok Ia membantuku bangkit dengan sabar. Terkadang tanpa aku sadar. Saat ada beban hidup yang ku hadapi Ia selalu siap mendengar. Tak pernah ia menertawakan kesusahanku, dan Ia bisa dipercaya untuk menyimpan rahasia. Ia tak akan berkhianat.

Aku memanggil-Nya matahari dan bulan dan bintang. Terkadang Ia terasa menyengat, bersembunyi, tak terlihat. Ia bisa membakar dan membuat hidup, memancing untuk berkarya, berkerlip lucu untuk membuat tertawa. Ia sungguh luar biasa.

Aku memanggil-Nya dengan nama lain-Nya—Kasih. Ia adalah kasih. Jenis kasih yang kau lihat saat seorang anak menyeberang jalan untuk menyelamatkan hewan kecil tanpa menyadari bahaya yang ada. Jenis kasih yang melahirkan cinta dan tak pernah membuat kecewa. Kasih yang membuat hati masygul melihat orang merana dan lega melihat bahagia. Kasih yang sempurna. Kasih yang membuatku merasakan hangat meletup-letup karena aku tahu kasih-Nya juga untukku.

Aku memanggil-Nya Tuan. Sebagai manusia, dibandingkan dengan-Nya aku insignifikan. Terheran-heran mengira-ngira jalan pikiran-Nya karena aku memang tak perlu mengerti. Takjub melihat kemampuan-Nya karena tak aku miliki. Ada di bawah kuasa-Nya tanpa merasa dijajah. Ada di dasar anak tangga namun merasa di rumah. Senyaman itu Ia membuatku merasa.

Aku memanggil-Nya Guru. Rabi yang Maha Tahu. Kebijaksanaan-Nya tak terlampaui dan kurasakan saat Dia mengajar. Entah apa yang Ia maksud, menebak isi pikiran-Nya membuat kalut. Ia enigma yang tak terpecahkan. Memang tak perlu diselesaikan, karena ia bukan masalah yang memiliki solusi. Ialah jawaban untuk diri-Nya sendiri.

Aku memanggil-Nya seniman. Ia senang bermain kata-kata dan melukis keindahan yang hidup dengan mereka. Ia bisa mencipta imaji yang ada dalam otak manusia. Ia menginspirasi dan menjadi inspirasi, bahkan menciptakan inspirasi untuk aku alami. Ia indah dan membuat indah dan memperindah, membuat semuanya menjadi baik.

Aku memanggil-Nya jenaka. Ia suka bermain bersamaku—bersama kita. Ia senang menjadi sosok misterius, membuat kita bertanya-tanya. Ia suka sandi dan membuat pertanyaan ambigu dengan maksud pasti, lalu bersenang-senang melihat kita mencoba menjawab. Ia memiliki kursi terbaik untuk menonton kehidupan dari kacamata pengamat dan penikmat.

Aku memanggil-Nya Ayah. Ia tahu kapan harus memeluk atau memukul. Ia menjagaku selama aku tidur. Ayahku mendoakanku dimanapun aku berada, mengarahkan aku harus bergaul dengan siapa. Panutan luar biasa dengan standar yang begitu tinggi, namun selalu optimis akan anak-anak-Nya. Ia adalah punggung lebar yang ku kejar, tangan yang aku gandeng agar tidak tersasar, pangkuan yang membuatku merasa disayang, dekapan yang membuatku merasa aman.

Aku memanggil-Nya dengan ribuan sebutan. Semuanya memiliki arti. Dan Ia sendiri memang banyak memiliki gelar. Semuanya yang baik dan yang indah dan yang mulia. Terkadang aku bertanya-tanya apa Ia senang dengan semua sebutanku itu. Entahlah. Aku akan bertanya pada-Nya, suatu hari. Semoga aku ingat.

Aku mengetik semua, mengingat hari ini peringatan akan kelahiran-Nya. Lagi-lagi, tanggal sebenarnya tak diketahui. Memang Ia sungguh menyukai privasi. Tetapi biar saja jika ada yang mengucapkan. Aku sendiri suka begitu.

Selamat peringatan kelahiran-Mu, Yesus.

N.B. maaf, beberapa menit terlambat. Setidaknya, di zona waktu bagian bumi ini. Semoga Kau suka.

I Rhymed Myself A Dream

This is a story I hope you’ll fancy.
The plot is fictive but there’s something real from me.
It’s the poem; it represents all the things in UK I’d like to do.
But will I get the chance?
Well, I guess it’s up to you.

* * *

Kye opened the door to her flat. She’s drained from all the work she did today. It paid off, though. She managed to close a deal that would make her bosses happy. On top of that, tomorrow’s the first day of her holiday. Kye’s done such a good job at work for the past year she got two weeks’ worth of paid leave.

“What to do? What to do?”

She dropped herself onto her sofa, thinking about what she should do—where should she go? It’s been a while since she’s travelled anywhere. And now’s the perfect moment to get lost without having to worry about work.

“Hmm… ah!”

Struck by an idea, she scurried to her room. She pulled a box under her bed and opened it. Postcards from pen pals, clippings from travel magazines—Kye used to collect these when she was in junior high. They’re like her travel bucket list. While she was rummaging through the contents, a piece of paper fell. It was old and crumpled. Kye flattened it and tried to read it.

“What could this be, I won—wait, this is perfect!”

Kye hurried to her phone, her eyes still glued to the piece of paper. After a somewhat awkward session of trying to grab her phone without seeing it, she dialled a friend who works at a travel agent.

“Hello, Jamie? This is Kye. Listen, book me a ticket. Just the ticket. First class. Where? London, England. Three days from now. Got it? Okay, call me later with the details. Thanks.”

* * *

DAY ONE

Three days later….

I’d like to leave
During the season of fallen leaves
To the land of “Her Majesty”
Where her subjects live happily
May God save the Queen

Heathrow Airport. Kye took a deep breath and let the atmosphere sink in. Her feet could still support her, but she felt weak. Kye shivered as if she had ague. She couldn’t help but laugh out of happiness. If she were still in her teenage years she’d probably have burst into tears. Yet, she managed to compose herself. Her logic kicked in. She needed to get her luggage and head straight to the hotel.

* * *

Kye jumped onto the bed the minute she walked out of the bathroom. Her hair’s still wet, but she doesn’t care about that right now.

“London. I’m really in London,” she said, her voice muffled under the pillows. It felt so surreal.

Kye headed for the window. Opening the curtains, she sighed at the sight of the city in lights. She could just stand there ‘til dusk dawned, but she knew she’ll need to rest to prepare for the following days. Though in euphoria, Kye managed to doze into a deep slumber minutes after she closed her eyes.

* * *

DAY TWO

I want to stroll down River Lea
Let wonderfully random thoughts fill up my brain

As I skip giddily down the street
Where the ends of my fantasy and reality meet

Kye woke up to faint rays of light that broke through the openings of the curtains, softly dancing as the caress the wooden floor. She dressed herself and hastily went to have breakfast. Nothing could stop her from munching down a full and hearty breakfast! With a happy tummy and a skip in her step, Kye got ready to explore the city.

There’s a slight fog in the air, but for Kye, it makes everything look so mystical and mysterious. And magical, too. She caught a cab and went to River Lea.

It was beautiful.

Kye thanked her lucky stars that she went there in early autumn. Most of the leaves have changed colour, some have even fallen to the ground, but there were still many of them hanging on branches, and she could spot a few green leaves. Then her eyes spotted something and she beamed even more.

It was a boat. After asking around, Kye found out she could step in and enjoy a ride down the river. Of course she wanted to! She almost jumped inside the little boat! But when she saw the view, she calmed down, soaking it all in. By coincidence, she overheard two elderly women talking.

“Do you miss your son? He hasn’t been back here for what—a year?”

“Yes, love. Ah, I do miss him so. When he was just a tiny lad we’d go to Richmond Park. Oh, how he loved to see the deer!”

“Um, excuse me,” Kye interrupted them, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, “may I ask which park you were talking about, ma’am? And by any chance, is it located around here?”

* * *

DAY THREE

My wish ‘tis to lie on the ground
Watch the sun set as falling leaves surround
Envisaging the beauty, I have no doubt
Right there, right then, I’ll be bound
To fall in love

Kye was out of breath. Lying on the ground atop soft grass, she smiled. She was in Richmond Park all day, only going out for lunch at a nearby restaurant before coming back. She ran around like a little girl, stepped on crunchy leaves, dipped her feet in the pond there. She even got to talk to a complete stranger who explained the flowers that grew there. The bluebells were Kye’s favourite.

Kye could hear some children laughing in the distance. But it was barely more than a whisper. The only obvious sound was cooing. It couldn’t be helped—the pigeons are everywhere.

The sun was slowly going down. Kye stayed on the ground, watching the beautiful scenery. She chuckled out of happiness. In three days, she lost count of how many times she did that.

This vacation’s nowhere near a mistake on my part, she thought. And now she decided to clear her head and focus on the sky, the birds, the trees, the deer—everything her little mind could hear and feel and smell and see and turn into memory.

For a second the thought to take a picture entered. But she shook it off. Kye didn’t want to lose a millisecond of anything. She could always browse for pictures, but she can’t always be at peace like this. Besides, her memory’s enough, and why should she take pictures? Bragging rights? She’d rather keep a place like this to herself, if she could.

Slowly, unwillingly, Kye got up. She knew the park would be closing soon. She agonisingly walked out of Richmond Park, hoping that the few days she still has would be half as good as this one.

* * *

DAY FOUR

I’d like to try out the culinary
Some fun food for my tummy
Also immerse myself in culture
Maybe a pub crawl and other things in feature

“Ah, I’m stuffed!”

“But you haven’t even had a beer, yet, love!”

Kye was in a little dining place, drinking her tea. She’s just finished a full English Breakfast and a portion of Fish n’ Chips. I wonder how long it’ll take before I feel good enough to take a walk, she thought as she rubbed her stomach, signalling it’s full. The friendly middle-aged man who owned the place laughed and placed a small brown paper bag in front of her.

“Tell you what, love. Since you like my cooking so much, I’m giving you samples of my cakes—pies and crumbles. The recipes were my grandmama’s, so I’ll bet you they’re absolutely, positively delicious! Oh, don’t be shy, take them! Compliments for a well-fed customer,” he said with a wink. Kye smiled back and thanked her a few times before finally leaving.

“Now… where to?”

Kye wandered into a pub and ordered a glass of beer. A group of people around her age walked in, laughing and giving orders for drinks with ease. Unconsciously, she eyed them. Kye didn’t even realise it until one of them saw her.

“You alone, love?”

One of the girls said so, making the others turn their heads at her. After a few seconds of examining her, their faces turned into warm, welcoming ones.

“Come with us, my mates and I won’t bite” said a boy, laughing.

“We’re going on a pub crawl. It’s better than being alone, right?”

“We promise you’ll have a merry time!”

Kye thought it over, but she didn’t really have to. She felt like she could trust them. Besides, she’s not someone who’ll let herself get drunk and get taken advantage of. And she could always come up with a reason to leave if she felt anything off.

“Alright, then.”

* * *

DAY FIVE

What would I do to step into Buckingham Palace?
Or see a passerby as an ant from atop London Eye?
Tour the land ‘til my feet grow callused
Then still somehow manage to go through Trafalgar Square
Amid all the hustle and buzz of tourists

Sighing, Kye stretched her feet. She’s been walking around aimlessly around London since dawn, going into any place she saw interesting. An art gallery, a few bookstores, an antique shop, Trafalgar Square, a cafe with a live band playing folk songs. She even spent two hours at Buckingham Palace!

The sky’s already dark, but she had one last stop. London Eye. And now she’s in one of the capsules, looking at the city lights like the first night from the hotel. Only… this was more beautiful. It’s breathtaking, to say the least. Kye almost cried watching it.

Her feet were tired, nearly sore, but she stood up again. Kye carefully placed both hands on the glass, then her forehead. It felt cool to the touch.

You know how they say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Kye believed that. But she also believes that something this gorgeous would look magical to anyone—anyone—whose eyes set upon it.

* * *

DAY SIX

All the historic places to see
All the wonderful people to meet
Places like Sherlock Holmes Museum and Westminster Abbey
The least is those two I’ll someday visit

Kye was just a few feet away from her dream museum. The famous Sherlock Holmes Museum. Her eyes were so fixated on it, she didn’t realise she stepped on someone’s foot.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, I’m alright, love.”

Kye had stepped on the stranger’s foot. The redhead introduced herself as Tori. As it turns out, Tori wasn’t exactly paying attention either. She was texting someone while walking.

“Serves me right, doesn’t it?” she gave a playful wink that managed to elicit a laugh from the both of them.

“Are you here on holiday, then? You don’t strike me as a local,” Tori said with a smile. She genuinely seemed to be guessing, not in any way trying to offend. Kye nodded.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, actually. But I’d like to tour this place just a bit more, while I can. I’m planning to go to Westminster Abbey after this,” Kye said, a bit surprised for telling so much to a person she met barely five minutes ago. But during her stay in London, she felt that she’s so comfortable. She could talk openly to the people as long as she mind her manners, and everyone seems to be friendly enough to at least give an answer with a warm smile on their faces.

“Lucky you, then,” Tori said, “I’m going there today to draw,” she pointed to her backpack, presumably containing art supplies, “Would you come with me after you’re done here?”

“But… won’t I be intruding?” Kye hesitated.

“No, love, not at all the trouble! Actually, I kind of wanted company. Now I do!”

“Well, in that case, it would be rude to refuse, wouldn’t it?”

* * *

“What was your favourite part?”

“The garden, and the museum,” Kye sighed, wishing the Abbey opened for another hour. There was so much to look at but so little time, though she spent over two hours in there.

“Mine’s ‘Poet’s Corner’, as you can imagine.”

They both laughed. Tori turned out to be quite the artistic person. She can draw, write, sing, even act! Kye was ashamed of how loud she laughed when Tori tried to impersonate poets from centuries ago. It seems they just click.

“So, where do we go now?” Kye asked.

“Hmm… how about the Beatles Museum?” Tori said after some thought, “We still have over an hour ‘til they close.”

“Count me in.”

* * *

DAY SEVEN

This isn’t a dream that may not come true
This is a goal that one day will fall due
It may be tomorrow—I’ll never know
But I’ll keep believing
One day, to UK I’ll go
I just know

“Well done, myself.”

A week has passed. Kye’s back at where she started; Heathrow Airport. In her hand’s the piece of paper that brought her here in the first place. It’s a poem she wrote long ago when she saw pictures of a friend’s trip to UK. It was like something stirred in her heart. She went back home that same day and went on a frenzy, asking everything about the United Kingdom to her parents.

Now I’ve found out for myself, she thought, ending her reminiscing session when she heard the announcement to board her flight.

She saw what she wanted to see. She found a new friend in Tori. Kye knew she’d miss Great Britain. Maybe when I get home I should start planning on my next holiday, and the next after that. I’ll definitely go back here—and God knows where else.

With that thought in mind and a smile plastered to her face, Kye walked towards her gate. Slowly, slowly. Taking the last moments in. Before she goes to bed on board and dream about her trip all over again.

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Suatu Hari Nanti

Seluruh cerita ini fiksi. Semuanya… kecuali keinginan “aku” untuk pergi ke Inggris. Dan hobi gue yang melankolis ini untuk melamun. 😉

* * *

Aku dininabobokan oleh suara hujan,
rintik-rintik sedu.
Bagi orang lain membawa sendu,
tetapi bagiku menyenangkan.

Aku diam di atas tempat tidur, meresapi tenangnya hujan. Ingin rasanya membuka kedua daun jendela dan merasakan butir-butir air itu jatuh. Perlahan… perlahan… membasahi dan menyegarkan kulit. Menggoda sekali. Apalagi angin yang bertiup saat malam terasa begitu menyejukkan.

Hujan memang selalu membuatku merasa melankolis. Tetapi aku suka perasaan ini. Perasaan bahwa aku sedang memikirkan sesuatu. Saat aku melankolis, aku lebih memperhatikan sekitarku. Rasanya aku lebih hidup.

Seperti hari-hari lainnya, aku menulis dan membuat sketsa kasar di buku kecilku. Buku berwarna hitam polos dengan guratan spidol emas. Hanya guratan namaku sebagai tanda pemilik dan judul buku tersebut. Bisa kau bilang buku itu adalah buah bayanganku. Arsip aspirasi dan pikiran yang menghantui jika tak dituangkan dalam konstruksi abjad. Kebanyakan tentang suatu ambisi. Satu cita. Satu mimpi.

Ah, sudahlah. Kantuk yang sedari tadi mencoba bersemayam dalam kesadaran akhirnya menang. Yah, memang waktu sudah mendekati pergantian hari. Waktunya beristirahat.

Selamat malam.

* * *

Pagi yang berkabut tidak muram.
Malah ia membuat semuanya begitu magis,
dan kini aku berada di absis
terhadap garis realita,
karena ini tak terasa nyata.

London. Inggris. Sejak dahulu memang seperti ini. Bahkan entah berapa kali Sir Arthur Conan Doyle menyelipkan kabut yang terkenal ini ke dalam cerita-cerita Sherlock Holmes yang begitu kugemari. Yah, jika kau berkendara dan tiba-tiba turun kabut, terutama di jalur curam, memang akan terasa mengerikan. Tetapi bagiku, seorang penyendiri yang senang berfantasi, ini adalah tempat bernaung yang sempurna.

Hari ini kabut begitu tipis. Pas. Sempurna. Seperti berada di dunia dongeng. Hanya saja dunia ini terasa imajiner walau jelas-jelas aku bisa melihat siluet orang-orang berlalu-lalang. Membawa buku sketsa yang setia menemaniku berkelana, aku berjalan menuju London Eye. Memang sedikit jauh dari tempat tinggalku, tetapi sejak kecil aku memang kuat berjalan. Dan kuat makan. Hahaha….

Sejak kecil pula aku suka menggambar. Dan sudah lama aku ingin melakukan ini. Aku ingin berkeliling di Inggris—terutama London. Aku ingin merasakan suasana Museum Sherlock Holmes dan menggunakan London Underground. Semoga aku tidak tersesat. Tetapi, andai aku kehilangan arah—secara harafiah—aku tak keberatan, karena aku tahu aku akan menemukan dan ditemukan pengalaman yang pastinya berharga.

Aku ingin mengunjungi Big Ben, kehilangan kata-kata seraya mengeksplorasi Istana Buckingham, terpukau melihat karya-karya pahat di Trafalgar Square. Aku ingin duduk di Stasiun King’s Cross dan membayangkan aneka kesibukan yang pernah berlangsung di sana sebelum stasiun tersebut berhenti beroperasi.

Aku ingin merasakan budaya yang dikatakan begitu beraneka ragam, berpadu indah seperti buket bunga dan membaur seperti warna pelangi.  Aku sudah lama ingin mencoba English Breakfast dihidangkan langsung di Inggris. Aku ingin berkenalan dengan orang-orang baru dan menjalin pertemanan, mungkin persahabatan.

Tetapi, sebelum semua itu, aku ingin menaiki London Eye dan menggambar pemandangan dari atas sana. Apa saja yang mataku dapat tangkap dan teruskan ke kedua tanganku. Mungkin aku harus berputar di salah satu kapsul London Eye lebih dari satu kali. Tak apa. Akan kujalani dengan senang hati.

Ah! Itu dia! Bianglala impianku! Dengan hampir berlari aku cepat-cepat menghampirinya. Namun saat sudah dekat, ada seseorang yang tiba-tiba menghentikanku.

“Bangun! Ayo, cepat, bangun!”

Hah? Bangun?

* * *

Dan terkadang apa yang terasa begitu indah
memang bukan realita.
Sesungguhnya jalan menuju segala impian rumit,
namun aku takkan menyerah, walau itu sulit.
Suatu hari nanti, apa yang kukerjakan akan membawaku ke Inggris.
Lihat saja nanti.

“Hah?”

“Bangun, Nak!”

Ternyata aku tertidur. Semua tadi hanya mimpi. Ibuku dengan wajah lelah sedang berkacak pinggang di samping tempat tidur.

“Kamu itu, susah amat dibangunin!”

“Eh, iya, Bu. Maaf,” kataku, mencoba memperlihatkan rasa bersalah sebisa mungkin dengan kantuk yang masih menyelimuti. Ibu berdecak, tetapi sorot matanya menunjukkan pengertian.

“Yasudah. Ibu hanya mau bilang, nanti kamu jangan lupa membawa pisang goreng ke sekolah.”

“Oke, Bu. Aku… mau tidur lagi gapapa, ya?” kilahku, mengetahui matahari belum terlalu lama muncul dari ufuk timur. Bagaimana aku tahu? Dengan melihat jam, tentu saja. Ibu mengangguk dan menutup pintu kamarku.

Yah, beginilah realita. Sesungguhnya, keluargaku tidak miskin. Sama sekali tidak. Kami masih berkecukupan. Namun tidak berkelimpahan. Aku masih bisa memiliki smartphone walau bukan keluaran yang terbaru dan tercanggih. Masih bisa bersekolah dan membeli ini-itu sesekali walau tak bisa menjalani gaya hidup hedonis. Ibu suka menitipkan aneka makanan untuk dijual di kantin, dan hari ini ia membuat pisang goreng. Lumayan, hitung-hitung untuk menambah pemasukan. Memiliki persediaan uang lebih bukan hal yang buruk, kan?

Begitulah keadaan ekonomi keluargaku. Aku tak mungkin menyalahkan Ayah atau Ibu. Mereka begitu sayang padaku. Apa hakku menuntut lebih banyak dari mereka yang sudah saban hari berpeluh demi masa depanku?

Tetapi… boleh, kan, berandai? Aku ini pemimpi. Tetapi aku tak ingin menjadi sekedar pemimpi; aku ingin menjadi seseorang yang mau berjuang demi menggapai mimpi-mimpiku.

Salah satu mimpi itu adalah pergi ke Inggris. Tidak hari ini, atau besok, atau lusa. Bukan masalah. Aku tahu segala yang kuimpikan cukup berharga untuk ditunggu. Dan menunggu selagi aku berjuang hanya akan membuat saat aku menginjakkan kaki di Inggris nanti terasa makin berharga.

Ah, sekarang aku sudah tidak mengantuk lagi. Melamun tak pernah membuatku mengantuk, malah menjadi semangat. Bisa jadi karena imajinasiku yang tinggi. Entahlah.

Kuputuskan mengeluarkan buku hitamku dan lanjut menggambar. Isi buku hitamku ini… kau mau tahu? Isinya adalah aneka sketsa dan tulisan tentang Inggris. Gambar terakhir adalah sketsa London Eye dengan satu kalimat di bawahnya.

Inggris—suatu hari nanti.

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Things I Wish

I wish to be not vain
Maybe I am
But I can’t help wanting to be better looking sometimes
Even if it’s so people would accept me more for who I am

I wish I had the money to make way to my dreams
Though I know effort makes it all the more precious
but it seems
I not only need strife to make it worth it
I also need to actually achieve it

I wish myself you,
all the things we used to do
You guys were everything
And it’s not that I’m left with nothing,
I just miss you

I wish to be a better me
To look over all the things I see
No more wishing for things to come true
I’ve had enough dreaming, now it’s time to “do”

Dreams

Cometh thee in the night whilst I slumber
Creep deep into my conscience while I toss and turn and tumble
Dream, dream, cometh to me
Tha’rt what I need in my time of sleep
Thine beauty refreshment from reality

Cradle me with thine branches
Keep weaning me in thine nest
Let me sink deep, deep, in unreal’s enchantments
Let me forget about the rest

The rest, oh! the world is tragedy at its best!
As insufferable fools babble
The barely if any competent humans blither
Whilst we all silently wither
Like a castaway pile of leaves that sign for winter

Thus is the realm of non-fiction
Thus I need you, dream, as an escape
To face the music, ready or not, ’tis fate
But for a while, let me rest in this haven
A place for the weary and worn and tired
Dreams—God’s mercy and grace that unconsciousness creates

Melepasmu

Apa kau tahu selama ini aku memperhatikanmu? Tak pernah benar-benar berhenti melihat tiap rinci. Apa kau tahu selama ini banyak yang tak ingin melepasmu? Entah karena tak rela atau demi sesuatu dari masa lalu bernama memori. Dan aku tahu kau lelah, betapapun kau mencoba pasrah. Aku tak ingin membuat kekesalanmu bertambah parah.

Sejujurnya banyak yang ingin kusampaikan. Tentang pikiran dan perasaan. Tidak hanya milikku. Bukan. Kebanyakan dari orang-orang lain, bahkan. Orang-orang yang menganggapmu lebih dari sekedar teman.

Sejujurnya, mungkin aku sudah bukan salah satunya.

Asli kau teman berbincang yang asyik. Kita bisa meladeni segala candaan dan sindiran tanpa tersinggung atau terusik. Entah apa kau pernah merasa, tetapi sekali aku jatuh pada pikiranmu yang indah. Aku kagum saat kau bisa memanipulasi pembicaraan dan tak ada yang menyadari. Dan saat mereka mengaku mengenalmu, aku tertawa dalam hati. Setidaknya, aku tahu aku tidak tahu. Jika boleh ku bertanya, apa kau juga tahu tentang dirimu?

Kau menginginkan kedewasaan. Kemandirian. Lepas dari segala beban. Lepas dari sebanyak mungkin pergumulan. Termasuk dari mereka yang kau anggap kawan.

Masalah mereka beban.
Mereka beban.

Aku beban.

Apa kau tahu kau juga beban?

Sesungguhnya kau hanya membuang waktu. Berlagak pasif tak akan menghentikan mereka yang mengejarmu. Bila tak sudi, katakan. Dengan senang hati aku akan meninggalkanmu sendirian.

Sempat ku berpikir… mungkin karena kau berlagak tidak peduli. Siapa yang bisa mengatakan bahwa kau memang peduli? Aku lelah. Jika memang harus kehilangan persahabatan denganmu, biarlah.

Nothing

My life is like a box of chocolates
I’ll never know what I’ll get
But I fear people who pick pieces of me
and then forget
to give back
Thus I’m left hollow
full of regret

My life is like space
it’s mostly all there is—space
Nothingness fills me
it daunts me
It says that I’ll never find meaning
that in the end I’ll be just that
—nothing

I can handle being a nobody
I can not care about things said by everybody
but being nugatory?
It’s scary

It’s nothingness
that bridges
between life and mere existence
I’d like to experience the former
and only think of the latter
even if to live is to suffer

I fear the day I wake up and cry
knowing I have no purpose in life
hoping that I’ll just die
because all I went through is futile
Because there’s not a shred
of toil and work and sweat
that would bring a smile

I felt a tap on my shoulder
interrupting my little session of ponder
It’s a friend of mine
he asks,

“What is it, I wonder,
what are the thoughts that you’re thinking?”

I answer,
“Oh, nothing.”

I watch you in quiet
as the whole room went silent,
with determined eyes
pronouncing each word, each cry

“Here’s the thing,” you’d say
over and over again throughout the day
I tried to keep count
but to no avail
but it’s okay

Here’s the thing I’d like to say
I’ve fallen for you,
but not in a romantic way

You see, I’m attracted to passion
People who do what they love
pursue their dreams
right to the limits of their imagination

Understand
I can’t stand
looking at a world without fervour
Thus I look for persons with ardour
like poets and writers and singers and you
Yes, I see fire in you too

It’s lovely to say the least
to see people unleash
their inner beast

To rule over and take lead
as they exercise their inner steed
trotting through the pain until they’re fine
and I’ll be watching at the sidelines
proud to call them friends of mine

I’d like to be that kind of person too
to be covered with zeal like a flame
bring life like how morning brings dew

To have, in my life, an aim