What if we forget it all?

Wearing my slippers at the balcony and staring into the horizon…I wonder whether it’s true that everyone is in control of their destiny. I sip on vodka in the glass and gulp slowly…feeling it slowly stream down my throat.

What if we will never see each other again?

What if we forget to meet at Chicken Inn or KFC or our favorite cafe in the heart of the street?

If we forget the future we can still make it up to ourselves. We can get creative and build it with our hands, you know, like use clay, or carve a statue out of wood like we used to do in Art and Craft.

But what if we forget the past? What if our memories become ashes and the next time we see each other we don’t feel anything at all?

I do not want to feel nothing for you. I can’t even imagine you as a stranger. I can’t imagine walking by you indifferently; not holding hands as we’re used to.

I do not want to think that we will eventually ignore each other because there’s nothing worst than ignorance. What if all those precious memories we created go down like a house consumed by fire?

What will remain of us is just ash and melancholy. I do not want our love to become apathy. We were us. We were special, so alive together.

I’d become lifeless without you.

Okay I know what you’re thinking and yes, I have three hundred and fifty fears, but oblivion is my deepest one. Nothing like forgetting us attacks my lungs so unforgivingly.

I do not want to forget our moments of escape in paradise.

I do not want to forget all the pictures we took together. I delete some from my gallery but they keep on regenerating, why?

We had a reason to be so perfect at such an inconvenient time. And I do not want to let it go as I envisaged the best coming out of it. I am not ready to disregard my intensity of our short, vivid instants.

I am afraid to forget your sweet mellow voice and that you will forget mine.

I am afraid to forget the fervor I saw in your eyes when we met.

I am afraid to forget your sense of humor and hearty laughters.

I am afraid to forget our love.

I am afraid to forget the pace of our love, your smooth hands caressing me, goofy faces, wagging your tongue at me at a distant when we in public, and the quick glances we used to exchange only after a few hours after not seeing each other.

I am afraid to forget the late night and early morning conversations over the phone.

I am afraid to forget the cosy and comforting feeling of sleeping and waking up with your warm tender body wrapped in mine.

I am afraid to forget how intimate we can get.

I am afraid to forget that I said I’d be loyal and only belong to you.

I am afraid to forget all the songs we played and listened together and the fights of who was playing the next one.

I am afraid to forget all our first times.

I am afraid of how dolorous our goodbye has been.

I am afraid to forget how liquor tasted so better when we had it together.

I am afraid to lose myself as I lose memories.

I do not want to forget how the intensity of our love made me feel alive again.

I want to remember. I want to be able to recall those instances that made me fall in love even when we were gone.

Even when the pain is too much to bear, I want to feel you one more time.

But again, maybe I’m lost in my world alone, dreaming.

Tha Dreamchaser.

Via Fidash

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Did We?

Did we ever make pancakes together..? Did we ever just sit at your balcony with coffee and fruit and waffles just for brunch..? Did the charming smell of cinnamon and butter ever fill the air as we milled around the kitchen making breakfast..? Did we ever talk… bond… connect as we felt the morning breeze in our faces..?
Did I ever just sit next to you, quietly reading, while you watched your movie..? Did I ever so often flick my eyes from my pages to your face so crunched up in concentration and smile secretly..? Did you press pause on your theater tings to just plant a wet kiss on my cheek, then on my nose, then on my forehead, and finally on my lips, knowing that with that, book and movie would lie forgotten..?
Did we ever play scrabble and monopoly and scream and shout like little kids..?
Did we ever take a walk in the evening, just so you could see the sunset reflected in my eyes..?
Did we ever lie on the grass watching the stars, trying to count them as they stretched across the sky..?
Did we indulge in ice cream and cake, pizza and fries, until our tummies bulged and we felt slightly ill..?
Did we ever just bask in each others glow…
Were we ever just friends..
Were we ever just in love… simply in love… blissfully in love..
Via Clover.

‘Mandatum’(It has been spoken).

 

[edsanimate_end]Kennedy space center, a rocket taking off , this was engraved on my tiny tee, my favorite Tshirt to be precise, a Tshirt that I wore every weekend when I was 10 years old. There was something about that shuttle, the flames beneath it that my small brain couldn’t comprehend but only got fascinated by.

The image was something like this.
The image was something like this.

Did you know that Thad Roberts, a NASA intern, spent 7 years in federal prison after having sex with his girlfriend on a bed full of stolen moon rocks? 🤪

Hoots here, hoots there, fast life, no this is not the outer space. Bright lights, strange waves, what’s there to worry? Nothing to lose each time you get knocked down. No fear of the unknown, just floating in a frequency only you can feel. Anything more exciting than this?

Well there is, I just came across a field, a field that we’re all entitled to plough, we’re are farmers by design if not by default. Is it a calling? Or do we stumble upon it by sheer luck? I told you about restoring your system to default when you feel like your software isn’t responding. It comes to a point that you have to pick the jembe and be a mkulima, scrub the mchagua jembe sio mkulima code off your script.

I just started ploughing my shamba, there are no bright lights, life isn’t fast here, every move matters. Every tool I use. In this field it’s ploughing ploughing but for the fruits that I’m sure I’ll enjoy tomorrow.

The shamba really looks fabulous so far, it rains sometimes, other times it pours, most of the time it’s like watching the sun set with the birds singing, thunder rarely comes. I’m not planning to put my tools down, not anytime soon. This is my Space center. I am the astronaut.

Farming I realize is within us all.

Reprogram, change your ways, there’s a field that awaits you. A space that is only meant for you.

Be good do good.