daily mysteries 글 小說, 詩


For a man with a broken heart



In a street, I found a tiny piece of a human organ bleeding furiously. Out of Curiosity, I picked it up and placed it on my right palm.
“Who, no, what are you?” I asked.
“I am a piece of a heart fallen from a man.” he said, breathing heavily.
“What happened? A car accident?”
“You idiot, my boss has his heart broken.” I had never imagined such a small piece of a human organ could speak so loudly.
“A man like you would never understand…” he kept on yelling, so I gently put my index finger on his mouth to shut him up.
He had a strong spirit for such a tiny piece of a broken heart. After a while, he finally fell into silence.
Feeling sorry, I said “you will be alright.”
which made him start crying.
“What did I say? Did I say something wrong to hurt your feeling?” I was so perplexed. “you don’t want to be alright, is that it?”
Then, he was crying as much as he was bleeding.
‘Oh god’
So I started talking.


For a man who has a broken heart, who will have a broken heart, who has and will again.
If your heart breaks and cracks and crumbles, do not worry. It was made in and of ashes of a phoenix, your mother’s womb, she put all of her life and love into making it. So your heart will regenerate and heal itself even in flames. It was made to be broken to be appreciated. Your heart is a flower that blossoms in fire. The continuous rebirths are fireworks to celebrate the realization of the deficiency of what you really need. Your heart is as strong as iron and as soft as silk. It can be a sword to cut through anything or a blanket to embrace everything. Because of your heart, you can be a courageous fighter at the same time a snug comforter. So be fearless.
Until you accept that your heart is broken, it is not. Let it beat as strong as it can. In the end of a day, if a piece of your shattered heart stabs your eyes until you cry, remember what Charles Chaplin said, Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot. So when you have your heart broken, stay the hell away from yourself as much as you can. But you will oscillate between close up and long shot, traveling between sad and happy repeatedly. When your heart feels dizzy from the repetitive travel, you should know you are creating something that never existed in the world before.
Every beat of your heart is a confession. The confession to the whole world that you are here and you have found something precious in this world. You are finally born.


When i finished, the piece of a heart, looking at me like a biggest idiot, said, “Shut up, you talk too much. It’s simple. When you love someone, she becomes the whole world and the world becomes her. You will be the only citizen of the world. Your heart knows only one person. Nothing else matters even if you become the tiniest piece of crumbles. If you think she is the girl of your life, just tell her that you love her.”
He jumped out of my palm.
He morphed into a whole man. He walked away proudly. I watched him until he became the tiniest crumble and then, gone.




One Afternoon


He was looking at everything by looking at nothing particular through the pale window. “You look sad.” I said. He kept himself in silence. In his eyes, I wasn’t there.


“You should understand, we were taught to behave and stay still in the absence of…,” she paused when she reached the tail of her thoughts. I could see her chasing the tail.


“In order to appreciate a scenery, you must learn to become a part of it.” He spoke as if he was knocking on a heavy door with the rusty voice of his. His breath smelled like cheap vodka. “Whatchu mean by that?” I asked. He quickly had a sip of vodka hidden under his golden mane. I waited for an answer. He gave me a happy burp.


“This is how I look when I am waiting.” he broke his silence. “Who makes you wait and unhappy?” “There is only one person in the whole world, who can make me wait and happy.” “You are happy?” Surprised, I asked. “I am happy because I have someone I am waiting for and I am happy because the person is her.”


“Yes.” she affirmed, “happy.” Her ears were flapping. Her thoughts of her special someone were flying up in the sky. I lifted my head.


“You too have someone like that in your heart, don’t you kid? Or, although it seems quite improbable, someone could be waiting for you without you knowing it.” Irritated, I asked, “why are you drinking if you are as happy as you claim to be?” “Because…… I love to drink.” After a couple sips of vodka, he went back to being a part of a scenery.





How do trees talk to each other?
I’d always pondered upon the thought until one day.
Taking heart, I stood in front of the most kindhearted looking tree I could find. The tree was passionately waving his many hands.
What a hearty welcome it is! I thought, holding on to my hat in the strong wind. “Hi”
He was still waving his many hands. 
“How do you talk to other trees?” Dumbfounded, he replied. “What do you mean?”
I repeated myself. “Oh, talk?” He surprised me with the sarcastic tone of his voice. “Like a stupid human with his stupider mouth?” Offended, I nodded without saying.
We don’t talk.
You never talk to other trees?
We are individual but not separate. We don’t talk but know.
How are you able to talk to me now?
You think I am talking to you and we are talking now?
He started laughing. I didn’t hear, I knew.


I politely asked her (she chose to be she and a tree can freely choose she or he or both or none) how old she was.  “12 years old”  she said after a short pause.
“haha, that’s funny.” It wasn’t funny because she looked seventy five years old, but I couldn’t tell that to her face because I didn’t know where her face was. “Seriously, how old are you?”  Seriously, she said “12 years old.”
“That’s impossible.”  Irritated that surprised, I shouted a bit.  She smiled, at least I thought so.  “Impossible is a human term.”  My eyes widened, her smile grew bigger.  “Humans count time all wrong.”  Moved, I stood still like a tree next to her.  She let my heart open and hug her trunk.  I felt her 12 years.

Thousands of years later, she said “Now go before the impossible catches you.”


Emergency Exit


There’s an emergency exit in the office on the 12th floor, where beautiful women and ugly men are filling the seats around me. Outside the exit, there’s a slim stairwell, drawing a long spiral down to the earth. Often, I find myself standing on top of the stairwell. I either look up to the sky framed by the surrounding buildings or look down to see the end of the stairwell hidden by its own shadow. When looking straight, there’s a solid wall wearing a frown face imposing its presence on me.
I quickly avoid the confrontation.


One day, when I looked down the stairwell, the hidden end of it whispered me in my ears to follow the spiral. I was tempted to walk down, filling each step with curiosity.
Then, I held myself. Partly because of a possibility of a trap and kidnap by the stairwell, partly because of a possibility of a discovery that I can’t handle – I don’t mean a discovery such as my mom cheating on my dad -, partly because of a possibility of an endless succession of stairwells.
‘What if the stairwell never ends and it is led to another stairwell and another, asking me to keep walking down?’



A song of the wind

The heart is chewing a thousand pebbles
With its naked teeth
Whose sound resembles a name
Of someone never was

Left and right, it pumps and sucks
To sustain the misery of an old man
Whose life resembles a song
Of the wind never came


I died today

I died today
Life, soaked in red,
as long as the sunset,
a gift from heaven before the night falls.

I died yesterday
Longing, soaked in guilt,
as long as life,
stars rain when the dark becomes the darkest.

I died tomorrow
Aching, soaked in regrets,
as long as karma,
tears fall to become footsteps.

As I have million times before,
I will die again
today, not to be back
to the world filled with a life unborn,
whose name i will never know.

I am digging a grave.
My heart is dead.


A bird

A bird, high in the sky,
Is it a life unborn?

Looking for a cloud nest,
The bird, flies across the north star

Will i name her?
A feather falls, like a shy answer

As her small wings carries her to the end of the world
Cloud starts burning

Without the bird
The sky is lost


I am tears

I am tears
Drying a drop a day
Heart breaks
A drop of tear ascends
Through the sky
turning me into fossils of memories
As much as the drop
Tear is light
Memory is heavy
Hammering me into the ground
I become my own grave
Tears are I
Drying a drop a day
I will no longer exist
When no tear is left to dry


Paper Plane

I am a paper plane
, throwing myself to the rippling wind
for there’s a place to reach
I am a paper plane
, pretending the crumpled wings are mighty
for there’s a heart to reach
I am a paper plane
, letting the wind decide the trajectory of falling
for there’s no map to track fate
I am a paper plane
if I fly a thousand times,
wherever I stop myself
will be the destination
, which will unfold me to return to nature
, which will fold me to be your

h) paper house
e) paper envelope
a) paper aunt
r) paper roses
t) toilet paper