Out of the Blue

Writing has been a passion that i can't resist, it has been my soul confinement from this so called chaotic world by doing so i can fully expressed every desire and every unspoken thoughts that lingers within me. Its as easy as ABC and just recently I'm in the process of finalizing my 3rd book for publishing. :-)

And as always I only share this book to my love ones and my closes colleague, knowing that much of the things i write are reflections of my personality and my daily quest. 

Bellow is the preface of my second self titled book: 

P R E F A C E

The wind breaths fire and the raging storm shook the ground. The heat had burned everything into ashes. It conveys an epitome of inevitable uncertainty far beyond my reach. Drought has come consistently as day pass by. It has press me in a situation of my decease. 

It made me dumb & how I wish I wasn’t human to neither feel all this emotions nor let my logic be tested far beyond my mind could perceive. I’m in the pessimistic state of my equilibrium everything hangs in unbalance. At times I am a hypocrite hiding behind a smile but deep inside tears keeps falling: shaken, twisted, pressed down and choked up of the acid test called: LIFE.

My pen is a being of its own; it has devoured me with mystery in farther galaxies & earthly norms. It imparts countless fallacy of questions and inequity in realms unknown of depths and pinnacle.

 I write not because I wanted to speak but my heart wishes to convey its intellect to the farthest height to the deepest low, I am my captain and I am my slave. I’m bound to deceive no one but my own reflection, my identity is far beyond my thoughts, hidden in the myth of fire and snow. I am my own prisoner chained with ecstasy and despair, hovering in my own solitude of blissful world and death.

I sing not because of a song but my heart long to be a melody of chances and circumstances of life’s uncertainty, beneath every infirmity and wealth. My anthems verbalize my soul with haste and chaste. I am no one but myself, an idle and a significant to creation. 

I cry not because I’m happy nor proud but because my eyes devoir me with tears. I am but a quest of frustration and delight not known to fallacy of my own personal façade, entrapped in a dungeon of my own position. 

This is me! I am Wordbliss Chronicle.