Baronhawk's Nest

It is one second
it is eternity
that perfect moment
twixt you and me

touching minds
words connecting
hesitant hands
fingertips intersecting

exchanging glances
childhood stories
intermittent pauses
heart beats skipping.

It is a beautiful vista. One that stretches far and wide. Across what remains of existence. The boundary fields that separates what is still left of what earth was and the wasteland that is the outside. The empty acres that lie beyond the grey hued yonder.

It is a greenish blue sea of verdant grasses from which dreams and tales comes and beckons. It is a sight that calls for many but only answers to some.

I am one of those chosen, one of those born into service. I am a Keeper. One who watches and waits. Whose cluttered mind and weighty hand lie ever so slightly upon the thermonuclear trigger.

You see, the frontier is not a safe place. It hides dangers and signs. Way beyond norms and dictates. Where the rules and reality may not matter as much as belief and faith.

It is a quirky paradox of fate and the greatest joke ever played that ones who understood less about life are those destined to be the keepers and guardians of what life is.

It is a difficult existence, that I must admit. But to be the bulwarks that we are requires great sacrifices. It is just another one of many,an echo of how the needs of the many outweighs that of the one an only.

But I am just a man. The boundary knows that and it tries hard to work its way into my defenses. But this is where sometimes I understand the logic and knowledge that goes behind the appointment of Keepers.

We are watchers and observers. Those who know everything but does nothing. And in this way the elders seeks to defuse the boundary. You cannot tempt those who are afraid of that which is their purpose and calling.

For the gift of the boundary is one of dreams and possibilities. Its gift is life itself. Keepers as a rule, myself included. Are afraid of life. Such that we hide from it and may even destroy ourselves and everything and everyone around us, at the very hint of life approaching.

But the one assigned to me from the other side seems not to have it in her to give up. The guerrilla that tries to find a breach in the wall that falls under my watch and charge. The one that is trying to bring the taint of life into the sanctity of the last fortress on earth.

She sang to me again last night, the angel with the long green tresses. Who beckons from beyond the distance just outside of range for my sensor array to deliberate. She sings of many things all beyond the range of my AI Matrices to translate.

"Hope" is her name. A veteran of many battles. A slayer of many keepers. But I swear to remain ever steadfast. I shall soon drench my sector under a hail of nuclear warheads than betray my duty and calling.

I am a KEEPER and I shall remain steadfast. As long as I remain, the boundary shall remain sealed. I would rather die than be alive and tainted with 'life'.

It is electrifying, scary and confusing all at once. Like getting hit with a particularly difficult exam question, being splashed with cold water and seeing Freddy Kruger appear from your bathroom mirror in the same moment.

Opportunities, possibilities and unlooked for paths begging to be traveled. Waiting to be discovered and explored. Uncertainties waiting to be quantified and permutations asking to be calculated.

The minimap is getting too crowded. I need to calm down and chart my course carefully. Don't get too excited. It is all just symbols anyway. Most of them nothing but derelicts. Life is often full of that emptiness anyway.

The compass heading is not the true north. Sometimes it is a few degrees off. Time to recharge and recalibrate the GPS. Maybe update the maps too.

Its all in the stars. Need to find Deneb and Sirius.

It irks me
when your gentle chiming
vocabulary of words
and speech's timing

seeks often to perjure
injuriously deconstructing
what to me is noblest
in a human being

it is not trivial
not even unbecoming
but the highest expression
of two souls meeting

it is not the rut
that you are accusing
nor is it an excuse
for casual copulating

it is sweet nectar
two lives touching
shared moments
two halves linking

it is also pain
tender hearts hurting
both hope and loss
a lifelong learning

it is a journey
quite worth experiencing
when you find the one
that complicates everything.

Among cloud bursts
clear blue skies

brimming currents
fresh cool sighs

tender pockets
soft warm shy

angel's gift
pockets full of sun.

You might laugh
at what I speak
or look at
what I write
suspiciously

I know well
that in you lies
that common streak
tell tale signs
tid-bits

you always ask
for cili sos
or extra chillies
even at a five star
Italian place

your stomach grumbles
your palate cries
for a plate
of hot steaming
Maggi goreng

your throat thirst
for Milo Ais
Ais Kacang,
Cendol
and Teh Tarik

your eyes water
missing the haze
your ears yearns
to hear
the "lahs"

you rush around
to foreign clocks
sorely missing
laid back
Malaysian timing

they say O God!
New York traffic
haiya its nothing
like the jams
of Tun Razak Street