Time

We tend to forget
the passing time.

Sometimes
I have to bring myself to a very small world;
so that I can feel significant,
so that I can remember who I wanted to be,
so that I can keep tracks of what I wanted to be,
so that I can imagine life is not all that
and there are more
beyond that.

There also are times that
I have to bring myself to a very big world;
so that I can feel insignificant,
so that I can forgive the bad decisions,
so that I can remember those innocent days,
so that I can let go of the things
that doesn't really matter
at the end.

If time is our fourth dimension,
it helps to shape us and also let us to escape from
the reality once in a while.

image is from upload.wikimedia.org/.../3/3b/Aogashima01.jpg

For the Land of Love

I dream
Dreamt of the land
far far away;
occasionally,
on those nights
with the moonlight
shining across the clear sky.
I looked up;
and wish for the fallen stars.
And
I still dream;
Dreamt of the land
to be free.

Listen Song here:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1xn7rjlOxfc

Lyrics:
Isle of Inisfree
by Celtic Woman

I've met some folks
Who say that I'm a dreamer
And I've no doubt
There's truth in what they say
But sure a body's bound to be a dreamer
When all the things he loves are far away
And precious things
Are dreams unto an exile
They take him o'er The land across the sea
Especially when it happens he's an exile
From that dear lovely Isle of Inisfree
And when the moonlight Peeps across the rooftops
Of this great cityWondrous though it be
I scarcly feel its wonder or laughter
I'm once again back home in Inisfree
I wonder o'er green hills
Through dreamy valleys
And find a peace No other land would know
I hear the birds make music fit for angels
And watch the rivers laughing
As they flowAnd then into a humble shack
I wander--My dear old home--And tenderly behold
The folks I love Around the turf fire gathered
On bended knee Their rosary is told
But dreams don't last
Though dreams are not forgotten
And soon I'm back To stern reality
But though they pave
The footways here with gold dust
I still would choose My Isle of Inisfree

image is from www.panoramio.com/photos/original/6685641.jpg

Freedom is Priceless

The wild places of Greece are full of wolves. They are always hungry, always on the move, traveling in packs, in search of prey among the boulders and stunted trees of the out lands.
One such wolf was born high up in the mountains of Crete. His mother fed him and took care of him until he was able to fend for himself. Then she let him go out into the wild, so that he could take his rightful place with the pack that hunted on the mountain. It was spring when the wolf cub left his mother's lair, which he'd shared with six brothers and sisters. The older wolves welcomed him with fierce baying that rang through the mountain. He quickly learned to hunt, to search for food with his nose, to stalk deer and goats, and to steal lambs from the snoozing shepherds and their huge, fluffy-coated dogs. When the hunt was successful, there was always a year feast, and the whole pack joined in. Then the mountains echoed with wolf songs from dusk till dawn.
But the spring turned into summer and summer into winter, and with the winter came freezing winds and snow that settled on the wolf's once glossy coat, turning it into a heavy burden of ice. There were no more goats to be stalked, nor deer, nor wild boar. The shepherds moved their flocks down into the valley for shelter. The smaller creatures that the pack had ignored in the warmer months now burrowed deep into the earth to sleep. Soon the earth froze under the wolf's paws so that he could barely run without slipping. One by one the elders of the pack died, and those that survived grew thin with hunger. The wolves' coats turned mangy and coarse.
On the rare occasions when a little food was to be had, there was no feasting, no celebration. The wolves quarreled among themselves, the strong pushing the weak away in a selfish bid to get more meat. The young wolf started hiding in a cave, where he would sit for hours on end, wondering if the spring, the sun, and the good times would ever return.
Then late one evening he heard human voices carried by the wind. There were sounds of horses neighing, bells ringing, and musical instruments being played. The wolf peeped out of the cave and saw a band of pilgrims returning home after offering sacrifices to the old mountain gods. Some _ the rich ones _ rode horses and wore expensive furs wrapped around their shoulders. Servants in plainer clothes rode along behind them on donkeys. There were children on foot, too, each one carrying a heavy basket or a chest strapped to their backs. Dogs_not the huge, fluffy kind that watched over the lambs in the summer, but smaller ones with dark coats _ wove their way through people's legs, barking and yelping. Bringing up the rear were the slaves, their carts laden with enormous pots and cages of fat chickens.
The sight of those chickens drew the wolf toward the band of pilgrims as helplessly as a twig is drawn by a river's current. He slunk out of the cave and followed them, saliva dribbling from his mouth. But he didn't get too close. He knew that a lone wolf had to find the right time to pounce_perhaps at night, if the moon slipped behind thick clouds, or early in the morning, when the mist wrapped itself like a shroud around the mountain.
The next minute on older man with a walking stick announced, "We'll rest here for the night," and the travelers stopped. People got off their horses, the older ones helped by their servants. Grooms unsaddled the donkeys and led them to a stream where they could drink. A group of women lit a fire, placed pots upon it, and brought food out of the hampers to cook over the flames. The smell of cooking filled the air, and the young wolf could not help himself. He edged closer and closer to the camp, his tummy rumbling with acute hunger.
Eventually someone spotted him. "Look out, a wolf!" People leaped to their feet in alarm. The old man with the walking stick started trembling uncontrollably. A cook screamed, and the servants reached for axes and clubs. The wolf, knowing that he was weak from cold and lack of food, quickly melted back into the shadows.
"Not much of a life, is it_skulking in the darkness, trembling at the sight of clubs and axes?" It was one of the dark-coated dogs speaking. He was returning from the nearby stream.
"Times are hard, brother. You do everything you can to survive," the wolf said grimly.
The dog sat on a rock, looking around him with disdain. "Just look at this place," he said. "Bare rocks, the wind howling around your ears all the time, and nothing to keep out the cold. I don't know how you survive. In my master's house we sleep in baskets lined with velvet, right next to a warm fire. And we never go hungry. Meals come piping not, in pretty dishes. Why don't you come with us and live in a palace?"
"I admit, it does sound tempting," said the wolf. "But I am not a dog. I would get thrown out."
"You could pass for a dog," said his friend. "There are many of us in my master's house. Trust me, you will be safe."
The wolf imagined himself eating hot meals out of fancy dishes, snoozing contentedly by the fire, and playing with his new friends without a care i the world.
"I'll come," he said.
Early the next morning he set off with the pilgrims, walking close to his new friend. As the sun came up, he couldn't help noticing how glossy the dog's coat was and how brightly his eyes shone in the morning light. At the foot of the mountain they came to a plain, and in the distance they could see the walls of a city.
"Your new home," said the dog.
The wolf turned to bid the mountain farewell.
"Come on," said the dog. "You'll get left behind." He leaned forward to nudge the wolf on.
"What's that strange mark around your neck?"the wolf asked. "It seems as if the fur has been worn away."
"It's nothing," said the dog. "In my master's house all dogs are marked like this. It's where the leather collar chafes our necks."
"A collar?"
"The master ties us up sometimes, when he doesn't want us to roam around, or when he wants to take us to a particular place."
The wolf looked puzzled. "You mean, you let someone chain you up?"
"You get used to it after a while," said the dog.
The wolf turned and looked at the mountain again. "The wild is a harsh place," he said. "But there are no chains there, no collars, no one to stop me from roaming around of my own free will."
"Think of the comfort," the dog urged him. "All that good food. Isn't it worth a collar wound your neck?"
The wolf shook his head. "I'd rather starve as a free animal than feast in chains. Good-bye my friend."
And with that he turned and bounded back up the mountain toward his cave, his nights of hunger, his old hunting grounds, his cherished freedom.

_Aesop's Fables
"The Wolf and the Dog"
by Saviour Pirotta
image is from https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP517SbKdvpO6AJq_-SefB6RHPmuWuQbFfAO70RXEGqdBiEalTTSN97pNJDkIaKTtcx-yAZD-HDjie21r0PZaAXSEQ8RMbBprEir5MhRWunHzbERuDwj6JZLajQP1QF8rZOb1W/s400/ty8.jpg

Padauk Revolution

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poem is from https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80YmfpqKmeeqtz3LFUig0d3-ZR62kAHyZhgtrFZw7LX29t5tpF0_nMfN7hN0QS_UvWi1HXp4hoy5wJ351femYgMm9FH-iypg3EXc_GabOmcZ_gNV3CaYCwE9JfKqU0ZIZUVkL/s400/Revolution01.jpg
image is from http://www.yadanabon.com/padaukw.jpg

A Wonderful New Year!

Wishing for the freedom

and happiness;

Wealth and porsperity

to be filled in

the life of those: the love ones.

Have a Wonderful New Year!

image is from http://www.funmunch.com/events/new_year/new_year_wallpapers/new_year_wallpapers_9_1024x768.jpg

Love is

Loving is greater than love itself.
Sunshine brings happiness with love.
Rain shows the romance in loving eyes,
and snow falls with such a tenderness
when love one is there for you.
Always ---and forever.
Just for you and me.

Listen song here:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g5cCmR7oKlM&feature=related
Lyrics Translation:
Pinkie Finger
by Sori and Lee Jun Ki

hey yay yay yay You're my girl yay yay yay Sori

What's wrong, tell me
Your face looks gloomy
By any chance, do you have
something to say to me
Even just by looking at you,
I know all the time.

I didn't get to prepare anything in your future
I didn't want to become a shadow on your face
This is my greed
Yes, I know, don't leave me girl
Don't let go of my hand. Love, girl.
I can't live without you, girl.

That it's not my heart --- that it's my love.
I know everything about you.
Why do you keep thinking like a fool?
You're my love
That's right, you are a real fool
You are my everything
Do you know how happy I am?
More than that, for the love that you gave me.
For always protecting me
I'm always grateful for you.

You always break my heart
and you touch my heart.
I don't know what to do Listen.

Even if it's with two shabby hands
that you hold me with, I'll be with you
I'm not expecting a lot, be by my side
And don't let go of me with those two hands
Forever, us together.

The time we have met is one thousand days
The time that's to come is a million days
Even my promise that I made to have you became a lie
Please don't go.
Longing for you, tears flow.
because of my lacking, my love is gone.
I became a burden to you.

That it's not my heart, --- that it's my love
I know everything about you
Why do you keep thinking like a fool?
You're my love.
That's right, you are a real fool.
You are my everything.
Do you know how happy I am?
More than that, for the love that you gave me
For always protecting me
I'm always grateful to you.
No matter what obstacles may come
Let's not let go of these two hands.
I won't change (forever)
Just like now (like now)
be by my side
You fool

I can't hold you or leave you
You breathe in my heart
I keep loosing confidence
This image of me is so pitiful
The hands that you are holding me with
More than that, for the love that you gave me
Is the reason that I breathe
Let's go to there, top of the world
For always protecting me
I'll bring you there, trust me girl
I'm always grateful to you

image is from https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0phU3apQXU7tyh8Xbh6TfivrOUZ8PCVoa3zv1QCqW6adUl5T47tuZTfqagLtv87iZUZQmNYeh44HB7HjqiiypPW1Nfp1I1MVFXvMKE21kxhdFLVyPhyphenhyphena-KbB7qXBcTToUftb/s320/AnneGeddes.jpg

Living La Vida Loca

I live in this world carelessly fearing sometimes of the end. But most of the time, it is forgotten in crafty ways. Sure, everyone loves their lives ---- rich or poor, innocent or guilty, brave or coward. What would we do if someone is tracking us of what we are up to day by day? It is sort of creepy. Everyone is a great king of their own kingdom. I remember the times that some people would judge us for the things that they have no clue. I wonder sometimes how would they come to know of how to run someone else's life. Understanding needs lots of investment of time, empathy and love. So, just let me live in this la vida loca as a guiltful king of my own kingdom. And, I'll be at peace even if I am not happy occasionally.

Listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6JZUq562BM&feature=PlayList&p=8A72F3DC45CC6F0A&index=6&playnext=6&playnext_from=PL

Lyrics:

Viva La Vida

by Coldplay

I used to rule the world

Seas would rise when I gave the word

Now in the morning I sleep alone

Sweep the streets I used to own

I used to roll the dice

Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes

Listen as the crowd would sing

"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"

One minute I held the key

Next the walls were closed on me

And I discovered that my castles stand

Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing

Roman Cavalry choirs are singing

Be my mirror, my sword and shield

My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain

Once you go there was never

Never an honest word

And that was when I ruled the world

It was the wicked and wild wind

Blew down the doors to let me in

Shattered windows and the sound of drums

People couldn't believe what I'd become

Revolutionaries wait

For my head on a silver plate

Just a puppet on a lonely string

Oh who would ever want to be king?

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing

Roman Cavalry choirs are singing

Be my mirror, my sword and shield

My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain

I know Saint Peter won't call my name

Never an honest word

But that was when I ruled the world

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing

Roman Cavalry choirs are singing

Be my mirror, my sword and shield

My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain

I know Saint Peter won't call my name

Never an honest word

But that was when I ruled the world

A Possible Song Meaning:

by Tordle420

At one point in time I was a great king

I was so powerful/egotistical that

I could command anyone to do anything

Now ( present time )

I sleep alone because my kingdom has fallen

And I think about all that was once mine

I would conquer nations

and feel the fear in their leaders when battle neared

Once we had defeated them

Their people would sing "praise the king"

And be happy he is their new leader

I was the most powerful person

Then all the weight of my power began to collapse on me

Everything I told people was a lie

And my rule was a dictatorship disguised

Full of lies and cover up

All the people were looking to me

To guide them, protect them

And know what to do

For some reason

Once you become powerful you begin to lie

And the lies built up

and that happened to me

When they began to overthrow me

It was a revolution

Drums and riots in the streets

People hated me

People waited for my execution

I was used and corrupted, this comes with power

Who would ever want this, it is not what people think it is

For some reason I was not executed

Although I lied and was corrupt

That was when I ruled the world

the image is from http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i72/smil4camra/doorcopy.jpg