Milomi's world

Overflowing Ideas.

recent posts

about

Just because I’m awake doesn’t mean I can’t dream.

  • Together By Life

    This is a story that I weaved in my dreams. It is a simple story, about eternal friendship.

    There was a time before all. A time when only one world existed. All sorts of creatures thrived there. It had all kinds of environments and habitats. Instead of speaking, everyone and everything communicated through thoughts. Yet that world wasn’t silent.

    It was overflowing with rustles of leaves and the rush of falling water. It was overflowing with the sounds of nature.

    In one of the colder places, there was a group of mammoths. Out of which two young ones were best friends. They did everything together. One was named Esther and the other was Lily. They were thick as thieves.

    Everything was going good for a while. All was well, before the rest of the cosmos was created. When that happened, humans found their way into the first world. And they became the wizards and witches about whom you hear stories today. However, they wanted to change the world to something bigger. Which would mean changing the creatures too.

    They put together the weirdest of combinations. Fish became mammoths and vice versa. Lions and tigers exchanged. Elephants and ants. Everything went helter-skelter. Topsy turvy. Esther and Lily were separated in the process.

    Esther was flailing around in the ocean looking for Lily, but in vain. He found someone else instead. It was a dolphin. He sent out his thought – asking who she was before she changed. She replied, saying that she was a deer. Esther told her he was searching for Lily. The dolphin claimed she’d met her just some time ago. And she agreed to lead the way.

    After finding Lily, Esther thanked the dolphin, promising to be forever in debt. Lily and Esther swam to a coral reef and made it their own. They attracted many more fish who came to hear their story. These fish were from the other worlds. Their reef was the biggest ever. And the most colourful.

    If you ever visit Australia, be sure to remember Esther and Lily as you look at the Great Barrier Reef. I like to think they brought it up. You may say that they are just stories. They are. But are aren’t just

    stories. They will never be.

    Written by

    Milomi.

  • What is Magic?

    What is magic? Is it dreams come true? Or is it just hypothetical and is not real? Is it heaven? Or something that we should be afraid of? Is it everything you believe in? Is it that momentary feeling of happiness after winning? Is it that light that is far away, but bright in the dark? Or is it that powerful ray of hope that keeps you going even when you doubt you’ll be able to make it?

    Fairies, Dragons, Dwarves, Princesses and Princes, Kings and Queens, Witches , Wizards, Giants, Centaurs, Sphinxes, Superheroes, Demdji, Skinwalkers ,Nightmares, Shape Shifters, The list never ends.

    For me, magic is all of them, but still something else. A feeling. A belief. A world that exists and is real. Magic means impossible. It means achieving the impossible. Magic means no limits. It means going past the boundaries. It means allowing imagination to be a part of you. To allow yourself to paint beyond the lines.

    I believe in magic, and it is a part of me that plays the lead role in my life.

    Written by

    Milomi.

  • Pack of Wolves

    One of the things I love about nature is that she loves to live in groups. Groves of trees, herds of elephants, colonies of bees. I would even say families of humans. Yet, our groups and nature’s groups don’t strike me as similar. Sure, members vary. But characteristics vary too.

    A pack of wolves and a family of humans. Both of them seem to have similar ways. Both care about the rest of the group. Both will do anything for any of the members. Both will make sure everyone else is fine and is getting what they need. Both will hope for good for the rest. So why am I trying to say that they aren’t similar? Why would a pack be any different than a family?

    Today, our families and friends are caring and will do anything for us. I appreciate that. However, at the end of the day, we are just humans. We all have our own ambitions. Our own journeys to make. And because of that, we hope for a better future for everyone. But we wish for the best future for ourselves.

    We will do anything for victory. We will betray anybody if the result is worth it. Just like how Brutus stabbed Caesar. Despite the fact that they were the best of friends. That is betrayal.

    People say that trust is not something we can afford today. Even your closest can stab you in the back. Which is why we must be wary of what happens. And also why trust shouldn’t be entrusted to each and every person.

    Betrayal is human nature. We tend to do such things when our heads get hot. In haste. It is natural. It is how our brain works. We look at the bigger picture. We do things for the greater good.

    We know we will die. So before we do, rather do what we can.

    Written by

    Milomi.

  • I Will – poem

    Everything is falling apart

    Slowly then banging down loudly

    Startling you but no

    It won’t startle anyone else

    I won’t let it

    I will hold the world up

    Even if it takes my shoulders

    Let it not hurt anybody else

    Let the innocent be spared after all

    We are human. This is life

    I will take the burden if it means

    That everyone else is free

    I will fall if it helps you stand

    I will sleep if it helps you wake

    I will die if it will help you live

    But don’t throw it away

    Don’t let our dust just dust away

    Let it stay.

    Written by

    Milomi.

  • Restless Thoughts

    This is something that pretty much all of us must have been through, at some point in time. There are times when our eyes droop down low and we do our best to stifle our yawns. When we are drained out, yet we force ourselves to stay awake. And miraculously, we do.

    The longer we stay awake, random thoughts seem to drift in and out of our conscience. Startling us, for we’d never imagined that that thought would cross our minds. However, when we try to sleep, which we’ve been wanting to do, we simply can’t. We feel that there is something that we haven’t done. That restlessness troubles us.

    It is an odd feeling to have, but consciously or unconsciously, it just occurs. When the world around you is revolving, but you seem to stand still. Frozen in time.

    That is the time when we enter our own world. Which is miles and miles away from everyone else’s. Which is ours, but seems to be about everyone and everything else. And it is disconcerting. We exit from a common world to enter another.

    These restless thoughts, will keep on pestering you. Till you answer. We usually try to discard the thought. To push it away, hoping to never cross it again. Somehow, that never works. Or we try to console our mind with a lie. Trying to twist the realities. To something we want to believe rather than what it really is. But as usual it comes back.

    So why don’t we try to drive the truth inside our minds? It is our mind after all. Ours to keep. Ours to control. Even though it might be hard to accept, it is the truth. Truth stands strong against those restless thoughts. Truth pushes them down. Those thoughts will spring up now and then. It will hurt. I’m not saying it won’t.

    But in the end, it is worth it. Forever. No more sleepless nights filled with restless thoughts. Not anymore.

    Written by

    Milomi.

  • I’ll Be Waiting – poem

    This poem is a promise to a man, who is lost at the seas. The woman promises the man silently, that she’ll be waiting for him to return. And that she’ll never leave.

    I’LL BE WAITING

    It’s been years since you left

    For the seas

    Saying you’d be back

    Coaxing me

    Cradling me so I wouldn’t cry

    And I believed you

    I thought you would be back

    One day

    To be there

    But you haven’t come yet

    I still look out at the seas

    Standing on the shore

    Imagining your hands

    Which would be laced with mine

    Never letting go

    I’ve given up sadness

    And mourning

    And helplessness

    But I can’t give up hope

    For I know you’ll come back

    Sometimes at night

    I wonder whether you

    Still think of me

    Because I do all the time

    Then I’ll remember

    That you told me

    You’d never forget us

    And that pulls me on

    So if you can hear me out there

    Know that I’ll be there for you

    I’ll be waiting till the days end

    And you come back.

    Written by
    Milomi.

    image source: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwjVgvD2_-HkAhXafH0KHReTCV0Qjhx6BAgBEAI&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.loveantiques.com%2Fantique-art%2Fpost-1950s-art%2Fwatercolour-miniature-seascape-the-roaring-sea-artist-d-silsby-(free-shipping-to-mainland-england)-132686&psig=AOvVaw3St8m6KTrTybghif_hhwiK&ust=1569158163750110

  • The Light And Dark

    Most of us think that the world is divided into two broad categories: The Good and The Bad. Some things are good, the rest are bad. Some people are good, the rest are bad. And when good battles against bad, good wins. These few things are hammered inside our heads. By what, I don’t know. But we seem to think that it is common sense.

    However, how many of us have actually given this thought a second thought? What if I told you that the world is not divided in that manner? And that all people are neutral? None of us are good, none are bad. We perform deeds, but that does not define us. That does not divide us.

    If good is light and bad is dark, then we are like twilight. We are a mix of the two. We use both our sides equally, yet some of our actions stand out. And rather than looking at what else that person has done, we like to point out his bad deeds according to us. Unfortunately, that is how we are defined today.

    So why can’t we be defined by who we are rather than what we do?

    Written by

    Milomi.

  • Truth Is Masked – poem

    This poem is about how each and every person has a different story. A story that they hide in fear. For they don’t want it to be discovered. This story features a mother with her son, at the train station. 

    TRUTH IS MASKED

    The train was whistling
    Calling out for passengers 
    Who waited for their ride home
    The sun’s last rays poured through the tiniest window
    Bidding us goodbye
    Promising to return. 

    Miles away, a mother was being bid goodbye
    But nobody knew whether she’d return 
    To her town. 

    She ran as fast as she could
    Hugging her child
    Praying he wouldn’t be hurt
    For the gunshots stung
    And left deep wounds
    And even deeper scars. 

    After dodging past guns
    And bullets
    After stifling screams and shouts and an urge to cry out 
    After sprinting away from the life she’d had
    And away to an escape. 

    The station was dangerous 
    But then, nothing else was safe 
    So, clutching her son’s hand,
    She went to the counter
    Pouring in all the coins she’d carried
    For two tickets 
    To a place safer. 

    As the train neared and whistled
    She saw the sun setting
    And she said her goodbye
    She said goodbye to the constant tears that dropped down her face 
    To her shakiness 
    To her fear. 

    She was not going to be weak 
    She was not going to be the damsel in depression 
    She was going to keep it all in 
    And keep her son safe. 
    So with that she strode in and picked her seat
    Coaxing her son
    Telling him everything was alright
    Everything was going to turn out fine. 
    And the rest in the train
    Thought she was just a mother
    They never saw the rest of her story
    None of us ever do
    None of us ever try to. 

    Written by
    Milomi. 

  • Gripped On – poem

    Time is shorter

    It always is

    But now more than usual

    Breaths are shallower

    So is life

    As it tethers and quivers

    On the edge of extinction

    Fingers bleed trying to hold on

    To the ledge

    That will allow them to

    Live

    They are a part of another reality

    Farther and farther away from ours in

    A world that exists on the thin line

    That runs between

    Life and death

    So thin that they might fall onto

    The wrong side

    With a little push

    Despite knowing this they hold on

    Determined to hold on

    Till their last breath

    They become oddly calm

    As they await death

    But rather than falling at his feet

    They embrace him

    Gladly

    Fear doesn’t exist for them as they

    Think of love

    Happiness. As they recollect

    Memories and goodbyes

    Which they’ll never be able to return

    Though only in their dreams

    They see death not as the end

    But as another life

    Another adventure

    Another time

    And with that and with will

    And with life

    Their fingers slip off

    Their hearts still catching on

    Their lives are given that push

    As they let go.

    Written by

    Milomi.

  • Road Back Home – poem

    Life whisks us away from home

    Sooner or later we leave

    For a journey

    And hope we reach our goal.

    We lose ourselves in the winding lanes of life

    Sometimes stopping to admire a view

    Sometimes turning back to retrace our steps

    Sometimes running on to see what’s next.

    New opportunities present themselves

    Changes come along casually

    Sometimes going unnoticed.

    There are times when heads spin

    And we stop to catch ourselves

    Or times when we just regret everything said and done

    And then we realise that nothing can be changed

    Everything was final.

    The mould had set.

    That is when our winding roads start winding back.

    We yearn for comfort, happiness, love.

    And we go through all odds to reach there

    Even if it means leaving what we’ve created.

    So we set out.

    Dark is the night, not a speck of light

    Harsh blows the wind, biting into our skin

    Cold is the road, yet we look for warmth in our hearts.

    But we still go on

    For the darkest nights will end

    And dawn will be born.

    We trudge through the slushy mud

    Splattering it all over ourselves

    Not caring about appearances.

    We storm our way through the storms

    Shivering, chattering, drenching, soaking

    Somehow knowing that it will all dry.

    We struggle against the burning sands

    Not wanting to burn bare feet

    Yet dreaming of a fresh oasis.

    We stomp through the freezing snow

    But tiptoe across the thinning ice

    Enduring what life has to throw at us.

    And then we reach our end

    Which was our beginning

    Then finding what we’d yearned for.

    And suddenly not minding

    Our road back home.

    Written by

    Milomi.