“In Memory” by Esmond Ng 02/01/10 © Copyright

I would see you almost every other day,
But yet you, I’d not know beyond your name.
Too few hellos and goodbyes we’d have,
Time too haste, too fast to chase.

We shared too, too little exchanges;
Of hearty smiles and laughter candor.
Of our ups and downs, and cheer and fears.
Fair in times like these never, know not I will ever.

I’d never know how your demeanor,
Of what your friends about you say.
How you’d react to the funny things, I have yet no chance to say.
Know not I will ever, this friend I have yet to truly make.

For our God has chosen for you,
To His bosom side to stay.
And though we’ll all miss you in our each own ways,
We’d like you to know, you were not in vain.

For your memories and image they live on,
In those whom sighted you as you blazed along.
Like a comet gone too soon,
We’ll reminisce till we’re blazed out too.

In three weeks 21 you’d be,
“Happy Birthday, Steph!” to you from me.
A final teary “Goodbye” for now it seems,
Hearts, your family, friends and me.

Miraculous it may seem,
Fate works its ways in us beings.
For never did I imagine could be,
What I seek’d in front of me.

Once I hanker’d and once I did receive,
Paints of memories and etch’d it did.
An innocent Romeo & Juliet story,
Coincidences in most everything.

Like the end of tragic Love stories,
Too ours perhaps guileless and naïve.
But these flowers its’ scent can’t be erased,
Even long after they’re gone we had our Time in some place.

Choices not apparent the always,
Deceivable most times the case,
If be uninvolved so snap smooth the first place,
Then what of choice would be it in dawning preface?

How we then make verdict of it all?
Consensus concord a volition pray.
For some in haste and foolhardy made,
Regrettable woeful will afflict its place.

Bassanio too was worriment engaged,
For dependent was Portia on his take.
Should gold, silver or lead be his box picked?
Should he cull a coward pick?

As stairs of sand they wear upon their chins,
The beard of Hercules and all their fancy things.
But inward with their milk’d white livers,
So too the precious metal boxes contain.

Seemingly beyond consolation you lay,
In your tears hidden by the feigning smile you display.
But bystanders they truly see in Thy angelic grace,
That your rainbow will come soon; hold on to your faith.

Thou art remain strong I pray,
The disconsolate Angel in all so beauty’s allure.
If so really Thou’s soul did die when he went away,
How so the world stays in awe when my eyes set on your face?

For not all will appreciate an Angel image,
Just like an unbeliever to a miracle’s envisage.
Wrong he did to you; you so unfairly perceived,
However wrong then you, because he be the one on losing’s receive.

Sometimes Love not work our way,
It’s been so since man can relate.
Not at all smooth our experiences vouch this journey,
But after each means we are closer to our fairy dreamings.

With every heart-felt pain we take away,
Lessons learned, all of which valuable to assist.
After storms, we then know better what future brings,
And what to avoid when rainbow’s gold at end we see.

Then is there something called “darkness”? We assume we see it every single night. The truth is…there isn’t! We can have little light, a lot of light, bright light or even flashing light. Darkness isn’t the opposite of light, it’s just the lack or absence of it. If there is such a thing called “darkness”, wouldn’t we be able to make it darker?

Similarly, we don’t have “death”. Death doesn’t exist as a substantial thing. It’s also not the opposite of life. Death is just the absence of life.

I was talking to a dear friend two nights back. She was saying that she can’t and/or doesn’t feel pain anymore. Immune, you might think? What did I say? “It’s not that you don’t feel pain, you just forgot how happiness and joy felt like.” My reasoning?

“Pain is not the opposite of Happiness. It’s the absence of it.” ~ © Esmond Ng 13/09/05

However, I choose not to believe in Destiny. There are those who lament they’re not meant to successful. They say that they’re destined to fail. They postulate that Prime Ministers are “born”, not made. That they need to be “born” with special skills, characteristics and luck. More often than not, they present tons of reasons or rather excuses for themselves. Such as complicated family backgrounds, lack of support or even name a friend’s influence! Firmly, I beg to differ. Simply because there exists such a thing called “Choice”.

Choice is something that accosts us each and every day. Whether we choose a red or white shirt, whether we eat noodles or rice; almost each and everything we do, we have a choice. There’s really no such thing as no choice. It’s just seems so because we sometimes choose the easier way out straight away!

Whilst we are at “Choice”, it can be elementary placed into two main categories. One, those already made and two, those that are yet to be made. A decision of the past is a sunk one. It doesn’t matter anymore if it was right or wrong. What’s done is done! There’s no way to “turn back the clock” as Johnny Hates Jazz suggests. What’s important are those that you can still control, the choices you have yet to make; the decisions that affect your future! That’s the sole reason I can think of why it’s called “Choice” and not “Chosen”.

I know Sorry is a word redundant,
When you have set out to eradicate me.
I know my explanations mean nothing,
For a verdict like a judge did pass me.

The reason for end is not as important as the ending,
This finale is not at all beautiful like stories seem.
But it may be best this way an end to all these,
For I realize myself too that anything to you I can’t promise.

I did enjoy your company, I really did.
Everything a memory I would still want to cherish.
Never did intend to use thee lik’d thee had deem’d me,
But it’s really not crucial the reasoning already.

For know myself more through knowing thee,
That in my heart someone else is still within me.
“Paint my memories” she did really,
A painting with varnish and medium to last for centuries.

Lest it be less use to say it,
It be best still the word to put it.
Thou do deserve someone better, someone that can give;
Sorry, that for you one is not me.

I have a diary.
Which I write of things I can’t express here.
My inner most thoughts and feelings I unreservedly explicit.
Of which many are glum and melancholy.

I have a diary.
It be where my solace is.
For no other can relate to me; the way it can, truly.
Experiences, my journal; my life story.

If Heaven so decree and unkind be,
Let me make my final entry.
Then let the world be made known,
That this be my best work yet.

For the essence of my diary,
Is really what my Life means.
That no word in existence more appropriate,
Describe what Pain be.

So is this end of road for me?
If so really, pray do read my diary.

“Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” — George Santayana

“The light at the end of the tunnel is the headlamp of an oncoming train.” — unknown

“That’s the remarkable thing about life. No matter how bad it gets it can always get worse.” -Calvin

“Just when you think you’ve finally hit bottom, someone tosses you a shovel.” — unknown

“People will believe anything if you whisper it.” — unknown

“If everything seems to be going well, you obviously don’t know what the hell is going on.” — Murphy’s Laws

“When everything’s coming your way, you’re in the wrong lane.” — unknown

“When things are perfect, that’s when you need to worry most.” — Drew Barrymore

“Today is the tommorow you dreaded yesterday.” — unknown

“Nobody’s pain hurts worse than your own.” — ‘Munky’ James Schaffer

“Anything good in life is either illegal, immoral or fattening.” — unknown

“Every one is guilty of all the good they didn’t do.” — Voltaire

“We tell you over and over again how wonderful and special you are and you just don’t get it! What’s wrong with you?!?” — Helen Morgandorfer ‘Daria’

“I’m not in denial. I’m just selective about the reality i choose to accept” -Calvin and Hobbes

“The hardest battle you’re ever going to fight is the battle just to be you.” — unknown

“Don’t ever slam a door. You might want to go back.” — unknown