Thinking too far outside the box?

I wish people can communicate using brainwaves or chemical cues. I think that would ease the burden of choosing the right words and the appropriate body language. And along with that is an innate capacity for tolerance and acceptance.

Would that be better?

No more misheard words.

No more mistaken intentions.

No more misplaced actions and emotions.

Everything moves in rhythm, in its own orbit and never colliding with the fate of another.

Meaning that what is meant to be, just happens simply. No more endless waiting for something that we are not sure will come.

A blissful place.

.

.

.

However, the randomness of my thoughts have brought me to the conclusion that that kind of life is kinda mechanical and too factory-like.

If everything goes according to our Utopian dreams, who will go to the heights of paradise, or fill the depths of hell or just wait out in purgatory until the balance tips toward whatever you deserved?

.

.

.

But,

I still think that communicating with brainwaves may just be the next best thing. It may sound insane now but it has been cloaked throughout time under an alias: the subconscious. I sometimes believe it when they say that whenever you remember someone, they remember you too.

It's like dialing a person's number. Sometimes they answer, sometimes they missed it or maybe sometimes, they just hang up.

But hey, at least they know you called. Or they think you did.

The mystery would be the only saving grace. The ambiguity of it all is open to interpretation and of course, open to chance ;)

Receding rain

Did you hear that?

The soft tapping on the roof.

It is the rain, softly assuring that the world has not ended yet.

Try,

Try peering out the curtains. It is not so dark outside anymore.

But,

If you don't want to look, that is fine. You could just be here with me.

I don't really know what to do, but we'll figure it out as we go.

This would be easy.

Because I have you,

And of course, you have me too.

Everything rushes by as time stood still

THE RAILROAD STATION

My nonarrival in the city of N.

took place on the dot.

You'd been alerted

in my unmailed letter.

You were able not to be there

at the agreed-upon time.

The train pulled up at Platform 3.

A lot of people got out.

My absence joined the throng

as it made its way toward the exit.

Several women rushed

to take my place

in all that rush.

Somebody ran up to one of them.

I didn't know him,

but she recognized him

immediately.

While they kissed

with not our lips,

a suitcase disappeared,

not mine.

The railroad station in the city of N.

passed its exam

in objective existence

with flying colors.

The whole remained in place.

Particulars scurried

along the designated tracks.

~ Wislawa Szymborska