clouds

i am spellbound by the sunny spring, as if my soul yearns to be free like birds on the wing. there are so much perfect offerings that come to me from morning to evening. yet i must contend with saying no and no again, although deep within my curiousity remains tangling.

i must refuse, because this is but one of the few weeks in my life, when i measure things in terms of how many pages i typed and revised. not kilometers passed, not tunes of songs played, not movies or sports and games watched, not letters and calls received, not photographs of faces made, not sterlings euros or dollars earned. no, no, no.

ahead of me is the month of may. and a new set of weeks of trinity, the last lap towards the end of the race. with exams and deadlines await me at the gate. and then, may i return peacefully to where i came from after the dining tools are cleaned and shelved.

but until then, there is sill a month of may ahead. and one silent but memorable thing a taurean will annually celebrate.