Upon this beach I stand,
rolling waves upon shingles,
bubbly, sinewy, and carefree.
Chilly water trickling at my feet.
My sleeves billowing in the cool sea breeze.
The horizon as far as the eyes can see,
offers no boundaries to what one can achieve.
Yet, here we abide, beside tempestous water's edge
Wanting, hopeful, and yet fearful of venturing ahead
Can the seas be conquered? Can the ocean be tamed? Who will know?
Yet without trying, without setting sail, how can we ascertain
that our dreams are for real ? So I beseech you, to dawdle no longer.
Hesitate not, and go forth, until you have reach earth's far reaching ends.
Until your dreams have been attained, til you can rest assure you have not lived in vain.
Go forth sailor, your body's your vessel, your heart's a steering wheel, embark and set sail.
Not too long ago, I came across a photo that looked like it could have come out of the National Geographic's Special Edition on the Mars Explorer. It showed a reddish landscape void of life - barren and filled with craters. If you looked closely enough, you would see traces of where the essence of life once flowed freely but now sucked dry and decayed. It was not a very promising photo, one may say it was very fitting for the issue of the lonely planet.
Yet, this was not a photo torn from an issue of the National Geographic, or for that matter The Geology Annals. No, this was a blow up picture of my face. Indeed, I was horrified to discovered that the contours that I had mistaken earlier for valleys and folds of a once lushed planet is in fact the outlines of my facial structures. That volcano in the background is actually one of my nostrils, and the craters in the surrounding environs are really the scars of a puberty gone terribly terribly wrong.
Ah, what agony, what despair it is to behold this heinous face of mine. So depraved, not even aliens would inhabit it. This is where uni-cellular organism came to die. It is a desert high in pH and rich in fossil fuels from failed cultures of bacteria. This is my face... and my oh miy, what a face it is.
At last, I understand why I seemingly have the Medusa effect on others. What I mistaken for due reverence is actually disgust and mixed marvel at the planet Mars that seems to tread among mankind. I have inherited a countenance that could smoothen out sand paper.
Sensing my distress, a group of Andy-friendly persons formed a Blue Ribbon Committee to explore options on what can be done to alleviate the blemish region. After much reconnaissance, the committee discovered that what appears to be a barren wasteland is in fact a breeding ground for the inflammatory insurgents of Acne cells. These splinter cells have laid dormant over the years, accumulating the means to actually turn my face into a Weapon of Mass Destruction (WMD). Concerned that a future break out would crippled the region, making it susceptible to further erosion, the committee of Andy Friendly Persons (AFPs) called for a decisive preemptive strike on designated high threat regions. Operation FreeAcne was officially given the green light, and profiles of selected targets were drawn up.
Invasive facial products were quickly assembled, and deployed to the region on active duty. (The first time I heard the term Product, my mind immediately wanders to the many advertisements which populated my spam box. Luckily, the AFPs were quick to lift me from the ground zero, and showed me the miracle that is Facial Products). In is decided that if we were to win this war on Acne, we must take the battle to them on their own turf.
The first part of Operation FreeAcne commenced with the carpet bombing of inflicted regions with Deep Cleansing Pellets (DCPs). These DCPs have the ability to penetrate deep into the foxholes of Darkhead warriors, flush them out and subsequently pulverize them. For the first few weeks, the Darkheads were pinned down by the heavy artillery of DCPs.
Elite squads of Moisturizing Units (MU) were then deployed to systematically engage and destroy all aggressive Darkheads and Hormonal Insurgents (HIs). Night and day, with brutal efficiency, the MUs clashed head on with the HIs congregating in the area. Soon, much of the insurgencies were stemmed out, and the choke hold that the HIs once enjoyed over the inflicted area was broken.
Once the region was stabilized, a team of Re-Vitalizing Specialists were sent in. They first steam-roller through the rabble, clearing it of layers of dead debris. Then, vital nutrients and moisture were air dropped into the region, providing relieve to the region that had suffered from drought and famine under the Acne insurgent's rule. Irrigation systems were implanted, and a temporary coalition of Vitamins was set up to help the region become self sufficient again.
It remains to be seen how effective the treatment was, but as of now, it can be said that much of the wasteland has been reclaimed and are now showing signs of life again. AFPs will revisit the region in a couple of months to gauge the improvements made, meanwhile, the three core branches of Facial Product (Deep Cleansing, Moisturizing, and Revitalizing) continues to work hard in building attractions to the area again.
The wintry wind blew upon my face, its icy touch serves to remind me that I am live. Its 2am in the morning, and I have no idea why I am still up. The past few nights have been the same, my slumber interrupted by the need to rise and keep watch during the night. But keep watch over what though? So I sit, each night, on the front steps of the house, pondering the unknown. I can not recall what my mind was pondering, perhaps it was nothing, or perhaps it was everything.. but always like the whiteness that encompass all colors, my memory is blank. In those hours between dusk and dawn, when the morning star is at its brightest, I recalled much, and I have forgotten much.
The silence and stillness of the night causing a sonic buzz in my ears. I feel alert, and yet I know it can not be for I should be weary. It seemed not long ago when I would roam the streets at this hour, and paced my troubled soul to tranquility. Yet no longer have I the urge to do so here, here in this modern neighborhood the serenity is somewhat lost. Always a car would pass by and awaken me from my strolling reverie. Here, the doors are locked to me, the windows black, and the scenery stale. The stars in the sky is masked by the ambient urban light, the street lamps casting sterile cones in the darkness, more sinister than welcoming. So I sit, upon the steps, and be still. Be still as the minutes pass into hours, until I feel the gentle glow of dawn caressing my hand. Thus I bid welcome to the arrival of a new day, and watch as darkness wane before the sun's penetrating rays. Then do I feel I have done my part to keep watch this night, but over what I know not.
