Tales of Lilac

Have I ever told you why I don't let anyone touch the knob of my backdoor? Or why my neighbours freeze when they see me? Or why the lady nextdoor forbid her daughter from playing with me? You should see how fast she scatters away on the sight of me. I don't care anyway, I would do the same if I were her. I have a bunch of crows I hold captive willingly in a tiny open cage in my balcony. Weird right? But only to you dear. I live on the top most floor of my apartment. The breeze up there is always cool but it " sometimes gets lonely at the top". A familiar phrase that one..... Well my loyal friends keep me company good time. They have made it more of a custom that they have a daily schedule of when and who goes out to the caves to offer prayers and the usual. Every morning before I fly away, we have a little chit chat and some catch up devotion. My crows are mostly filled with news of who has become what, which forests are the most safe now, what landmarks h...

In the quiet depths of an introverted heart, Love blooms like a hidden work of art. In gentle whispers and soft-spoken words, Emotions dance, like elusive birds. In solitude's embrace, love finds its home, Where silence speaks more than words alone. In the tender touch and the lingering gaze, Affection blooms in mysterious ways. Though introverted, love knows no bounds, It thrives in the stillness where peace abounds. In shared moments of quiet understanding, Two souls unite, their hearts expanding. So cherish the love of an introvert's heart, For its depth and beauty set it apart. In the calm and the quiet, love truly thrives, As two souls connect in their silent lives. And ONLY theirs, is the only one you can never doubt, For lies and deceit don't exist in their world, Honesty is their worship. Blessed are they that find affection in the eyes of an introvert. Blessed is I in his hands.

"But you survived!" ~ three words that know the way to my deepest pit of grief. Words are blades of steel forged in the ancient times by spirits to cut through the thick walls of the soul leaving its vulnerable scent evaporating and diffusing into the tissues of the mortal body. I stared at the glass in my hand, halfway to my mouth and the view of the red wine took me back to my darkest times. Times I don't talk about and would donate my silver rings just to avoid their narration. You know those scenarios that give you a dejavu , not the enticing one but the traumatic type....yeah. Survival ?! Survived ?! Survivor ?!!!!!.......like is it something one should worship or adore like it's a grant wish from the gods. People make it sound like it's a national security concern that medals and crowns should be designed and awarded to   survivors for surviving !!! I can't even picture a sane person smiling about some stone or whatever metal hanging on their...

It's a hot Thursday morning, decorated aggressively by a clear blue sky, it's emptiness is giving me some uncomfortable feeling that am finding too awkward to trust. The day is the 15th of February, the year 2024. As usual, alone in my room, am trying to sell my concentration and nerves to one of my favorite reads ' PERSONAL ', A Jack Reacher thriller series by Lee Child . Through my window, a teenage girl is dancing to her rhythmic infatuations holding some red roses. They are plastic! Don't get me wrong, I'm not a hater but I can tell from the stiffness of the petals despite her motion and the wind. What's so exciting about this day for someone to disturb my peace. Times are hard in the eastern countries and we are barely surviving between the dollar appreciation and our corrupt leaders. It's a Man-Eat society and brotherhood has become an old tale of the folks. Now that she has my attention, I can read her little mind. The red bunch is a ...

The day unfolded calmly, the eastern orange nagging me to go for my morning runs. I flew slowly watching the mortal world below me welcome a new day. Life hasn't been exciting lately ever since the son of Zeus came for me. I'm just tryna adapt to my ancestral home anyway. "Change is inevitable, but it has shortcomings," ~ Margaret Ogola in her novel The River and The Source. I've made it a routine visiting the shores early mornings to watch the marines parade and listen to their hymns. Talk of an excuse to see the love of my life daily......I know y'all understand, no judging though. A tiny turtle is struggling to get back in the water and I reach to help. I can see his distraction by my huge wings and from the look on his face, he loves them, I think. It's not common for my fire family to go near the water kingdom anyway....I guess there's more that astonishes him. For some strange reason I can't tell, he thinks he can trust me and sta...

In a small village, nestled by a shore, Lived a gentle soul, longing for more. Her heart was adorned with dreams untold, A treasure trove of love, waiting to unfold. She wandered through meadows, kissed by the sun, Listening to whispers of a love yet undone. Her eyes painted with a glimmer so bright, A reflection of stars that danced in the night. Seasons came and went, as time flowed on, Yet her heart remained bound, feeling forlorn. Whispers of love brought hope to her mind, But patience grew thin, as she yearned to find. One summer eve, beneath a sky so vast, She encountered a wise one from the distant past. Eyes filled with wonder, she asked for advice, "How shall I find love, that's been priced?” The wise one smiled, and spoke with grace, "Dear seeker of love, keep a steadfast pace. For love arrives when it's meant to be, In divine timing, you will surely see." Undeterred by doubt, she heeded those words, Embracing the unknown, like the flight of...