Blurred Reality

The sights and sounds of all that we see,
exist in a hazy blur that cannot be.
The Vagrant blur clears just a little,
 in focus it becomes just a little,
 but yet these sights and sounds that we see,
Exist in a time and space that cannot be.

Of lamp posts and clock towers,
Standing tall over yellow flowers,
Dead branches and dead lakes,
White fenches and snowflakes,
The autumn wind announces,
The brick walkway dances,
In a blurred reality,
one that exists and yet cannot be,
These sights and sounds that we see.

As I Wander

As I wander on this nameless street,
by the lake reflecting the invigorating sky,
 I gaze at the rustling leaf,
and the sounds of stream and breeze.

Like a dream that was not remembered,
but was never forgotten,
 I see visions of grass and the sun,
The sights seem familiar,
The air tastes of a memory,
Like the dew on morning windows,
Like the dead branches floating,
Like the numbness in fingertips,
Like the ghosts of memories.

As I wander this nameless street,
By the lake reflecting the invigorating sky,
stolen from the belgian's dreams.
I gaze at the colors of autumn,
and the sounds of stream and breeze.

The Fight and The Fire

O Lonesome Bird,
Fly as you will,
The gushing winds provoke,
The fight and fire within.

The tides may rise,
and the skies may weep,
Your limbs may ache,
As you glide oceans steep.
Your heart may tire,
as courage begins to ebb,
The Resiliant wave of fire,
dwindles into a tiny spark.

All that lies beneath,
becomes a forgotten dream.
O Lonesome Bird,
The ocean is a mere stream.
May you soar up above.
The gushing winds provoke,
The fight and fire within.

Wandering through Nowhere

Anyone who probably reads my entries on this blog knows that I love travelling. I love the experience of visiting new cities, I love the experience of walking down streets without any idea of time or place, I love the sights, sounds and smells of a new restaurant in the middle of the city, I love walking briskly, stopping at opportune times to admire the buildings or the people around, I love sipping coffee and watching the nameless crowd pass me by, I love the feeling in your feet at the end of the day, the feeling that your feet turned into jello, that feeling is pure relaxation.
Last month I had the fortune of visiting my favorite city in the world. San Fransisco. SF is a city that consists of small pockets of entertainment. Each pocket is a neighbourhood that contains something unique and has a character and flavor of its own. Over looking the bay, the epicenter of the city is concentrated around a narrow radius. This uniquely positions it to be a tourists (Yes, I am not ashamed to be called this here) heaven. You could on a great day possibly walk the entire city. Of course you can't because after every other block, you will find something that catches your attention.
I will not attempt to describe everything that I saw here. There are travel blogs, and magazines that capture this city adequately. I captured images, and memories. Memories are fluids that continue to swim inside the corners of my brain, but images are concrete, those I can capture, and those I can share. I called this blog "Wandering through Nowhere" because  wanted the reader to feel like they are in a nameless city discovering it the same way I did.