<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239</id><updated>2011-07-08T08:28:35.248+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Healing Poet</title><subtitle type='html'>Living, but trying to be alive.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>72</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-501177915689895983</id><published>2010-01-02T23:40:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T00:00:47.446+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter from 2009 to 2010</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;div&gt;J-Z&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;A lot has changed since I came back to Singapore. You know, I remember you telling me once that when you're sad, you won't actually show it, you'll just laugh a lot, you know "hahahahaha" and all that. I remember a lot of things about us. Sometime later I visited your blog, and saw your post about your reaction after...that day. You told me you were alright. You have no idea how guilty I felt when I read your blog and found out how you really feel. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That was a lie wasn't it? I broke something that day. And I want to apologize for it. I know that it doesn't help and it doesn't really matter now because that's all behind us, but I never got to truly say that I was sorry for it, and I am. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm happy now, however. I'm happy because We don't treat each other like exes normally treat each other. I'm happy that we still talk and all. I was afraid when I found out you have a bf that we would lose contact, but still we're talking, and I hope that things are comfortable between you and me, that we can still consider each other friends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I never told you this, but after it ended, the way we were still talking, You became...almost like a big sister to me...at least, as big as you can get :P. You remember? I used to call you angel and you called me sky. But it was after we broke up that you really became an angel to me, when we would talk and you gave me advice here and there...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Make no mistake, I'm not hoping for things to go back to the way they used to be. Hell, I don't think it should, but I hope that you will still see me as a guy who cares for you as a good friend. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've always seen you as an angel. Caring, sweet, and let's face it, your pretty as well. and I believe that won't change anytime soon. I feel honored just to be friends with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want that to continue. I want us to remain friends for as long as possible. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope that this note can explain somethings to you. Happy new year :) and have a great 2010.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Regards, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sky.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-501177915689895983?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/501177915689895983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=501177915689895983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/501177915689895983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/501177915689895983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2010/01/letter-from-2009-to-2010.html' title='Letter from 2009 to 2010'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-8432182152050490659</id><published>2009-07-09T22:50:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T22:50:11.348+08:00</updated><title type='text'>1st in a long time</title><content type='html'>Her desk cluttered with papers,&lt;br /&gt;A mixture of documents and old&lt;br /&gt;Love letters. She reads through them&lt;br /&gt;without abandon, a twinkle in her&lt;br /&gt;eyes, content and yet wanting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's beautiful, in every sense of&lt;br /&gt;The word. Funny, caring, and&lt;br /&gt;stunning, she's a vision to many&lt;br /&gt;and to a lucky few, a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her eyes glow despite the light&lt;br /&gt;coming from a lone candle on her&lt;br /&gt;Table, they shine througout&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the love letters catches&lt;br /&gt;Her attention. It has no name&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that's on it is this poem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-8432182152050490659?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8432182152050490659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=8432182152050490659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8432182152050490659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8432182152050490659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2009/07/1st-in-long-time.html' title='1st in a long time'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-2816847980701578417</id><published>2009-03-10T20:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T20:17:06.986+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sentinel on the Cliff</title><content type='html'>This blog died for a while, Now I'm reviving it. 1st post in a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;He runs through the woods on nimble feet, making not a sound. It's instinct to him, how he never hits a tree, or stumbles on the gray branches and brambles that litter the forest floor. Clear and keen eyes scan his path, noting every crack in the ground. Every puddle, leaf, twig and bug is taken in stride. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He runs on, an unhindered soul beating with life on this cold autumn night. Every muscle of his ripples in unison, working not as seperate entities, but a single, focused power, as he charges through the underbrush. Stopping not, on and on he runs. Without fear, without inhibitions, he runs. Through the black, he runs.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Silent as the wind, he speeds through the darkness. Shadow upon shadow, few see, and those who see, none react, for they know it is futile to catch the ghost among the trees. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;There! amongst the trees! a slimmer of light. He alters his path towards it. Every step brings him closer, every bound he takes brings him nearer to the light. The trail begins to go uphill. The soil slowly replaced with stone, angled in such a way no other would dare scale it. With everystep, it gets harder. every foot infront of the other, more effort is needed, more is put in. It is a hard climb.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But he will not be denied. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;With a final snarl of defiance, he bursts from the treeline, onto the protruding cliff. Eyes a bright yellow look across up at the stars and full moon. He draws breath, filling his lungs with fresh air. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He lets loose the air in a long, unyielding howl. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Sentinel on the cliff watches all.&lt;/p&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-2816847980701578417?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2816847980701578417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=2816847980701578417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2816847980701578417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2816847980701578417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2009/03/sentinel-on-cliff.html' title='Sentinel on the Cliff'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-8302810604516632443</id><published>2009-01-22T16:15:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T16:36:55.828+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Silence</title><content type='html'>The tape has been pulled from my&lt;br /&gt;mouth, the gag removed. The bonds&lt;br /&gt;Cut from my hands and feet, and my&lt;br /&gt;resolve renewed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a time my voice was lost. For a&lt;br /&gt;time, I had nothing, I was quiet.&lt;br /&gt;But silence has a way of making many&lt;br /&gt;things desired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm back ladies and Gentlemen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Waiting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-8302810604516632443?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8302810604516632443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=8302810604516632443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8302810604516632443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8302810604516632443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2009/01/silence.html' title='Silence'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-3998040673930935715</id><published>2009-01-10T20:13:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T21:36:37.263+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trail of letters</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://pro.corbis.com/images/GOV077.jpg?size=572&amp;amp;uid=%7B02954442-8E16-42EC-92CF-9B06FF13A331%7D"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://pro.corbis.com/images/GOV077.jpg?size=572&amp;amp;uid=%7B02954442-8E16-42EC-92CF-9B06FF13A331%7D" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Half of me is hoping that you you will read this, that you still visit this blog. The other half hopes you don't see this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, if you are reading this, thank you for listening...really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To you, it may look like I'm in possession of a vast amount of happiness that I take with me wherever I go, but even I need to get things off my chest at times. I know you're busy and stuff, so don't worry. I just feel more...distant from everything, almost like I have to wade through syrup to get to everything...to everyone...to you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sigh, it's been tough, the past few weeks, all the stress and work etc...But don't get me wrong, every smile I had was still genuine. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I still feel distant. And I don't know why. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sigh, enough self brooding for now. Need to start smiling again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Waiting,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-3998040673930935715?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/3998040673930935715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=3998040673930935715' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3998040673930935715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3998040673930935715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2009/01/trail-of-letters.html' title='Trail of letters'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-2360038317911557277</id><published>2009-01-06T08:34:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-06T08:37:08.313+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Word Definitions</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Circumvent&lt;/strong&gt;: What you tell your boss when he is stressed out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Balderdash&lt;/strong&gt;: A bald guy winning a marathon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Willy-Nilly&lt;/strong&gt;: A guy with no bump in his pants&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Idiosyncracy&lt;/strong&gt;: Idiots line dancing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Testimony&lt;/strong&gt;: checking your wallet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you get what they mean, then good for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-2360038317911557277?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2360038317911557277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=2360038317911557277' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2360038317911557277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2360038317911557277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2009/01/word-definitions.html' title='Word Definitions'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-5988896531520370676</id><published>2008-12-26T11:31:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T11:32:44.347+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wrappers strewn about the floor&lt;br /&gt;A tree with leaves moulting. So dry&lt;br /&gt;An assortment of gifts scattered about&lt;br /&gt;The floor while children scamper about&lt;br /&gt;Merrily ripping paper of packages&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No other day would anyone be so happy&lt;br /&gt;To see a house so messy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas All :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Waiting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-5988896531520370676?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/5988896531520370676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=5988896531520370676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5988896531520370676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5988896531520370676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/12/wrappers-strewn-about-floor-tree-with.html' title=''/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-5717927738371085824</id><published>2008-12-11T14:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:00:52.269+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello there</title><content type='html'>Hello there friend.&lt;br /&gt;Use your time to be happy&lt;br /&gt;You are a walking marvel&lt;br /&gt;You have n equal&lt;br /&gt;You are unique, ireeplaceable.&lt;br /&gt;Did you know that?&lt;br /&gt;Why aren't you surprsed?&lt;br /&gt;Why aren't you glad, astonished&lt;br /&gt;about yourself&lt;br /&gt;and about everyone else&lt;br /&gt;you know?&lt;br /&gt;Do you think that it's so natural,&lt;br /&gt;so obvious,&lt;br /&gt;that you are alive,&lt;br /&gt;that you can go on living,&lt;br /&gt;that you are given time&lt;br /&gt;to sing and dance,&lt;br /&gt;and to be happy?&lt;br /&gt;Why then lose your time&lt;br /&gt;in senseless pursuit&lt;br /&gt;of money and possessions?&lt;br /&gt;Why make a rowd of worries&lt;br /&gt;of tomorrow and days after tomorrow?&lt;br /&gt;Why quarrel, bore yourself?&lt;br /&gt;Why drown yourself in empty amusements&lt;br /&gt;and then sleep when the sun shines?&lt;br /&gt;Take your time quietly and be happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Time is no speedway&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;between the cradle and the grave&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;but space&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;to find a place in the sun&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Hello there by Phil Bosmans.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Cheers and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Waiting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-5717927738371085824?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/5717927738371085824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=5717927738371085824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5717927738371085824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5717927738371085824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/12/hello-there.html' title='Hello there'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-8804472045162487692</id><published>2008-11-29T20:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T21:37:57.219+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>It's been quiet lately. Like the calm before a storm or something (lol). Well don't feel bad. Seriously. You shouldn't :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all, If you need to talk...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-8804472045162487692?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8804472045162487692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=8804472045162487692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8804472045162487692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8804472045162487692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/untitled.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-2740264276000866268</id><published>2008-11-25T19:19:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T21:00:31.800+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A note that brings longing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/45/139492351_999aeed1b1.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 456px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/45/139492351_999aeed1b1.jpg?v=0" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wrote this for a competition. The theme was "make me hear music"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It won honorable mention.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Listen to me as I play your song through&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Minors of heartache, through majors of &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love. Every string I pluck, every note I&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Play, is meant to how you what I want, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What I cannot say.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sing with me as I play your tune out in&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Soft and sweet chords, and sadness&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Without. Every beat of your heart, In&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sync with this song while we hear the &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rich tones, with feelings so strong&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when we reach the end, let me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Play your lullaby. Each note, black or&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;White, is like saying goodbye. Each &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Key brings tears, each tear, a memory&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Always remembered, always a story.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-2740264276000866268?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2740264276000866268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=2740264276000866268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2740264276000866268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2740264276000866268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/note-that-brings-longing.html' title='A note that brings longing'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-2851577523437627689</id><published>2008-11-18T21:14:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T22:42:19.952+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tears of a garden</title><content type='html'>She is standing in the garden, looking around&lt;br /&gt;Her, but not seeing. Listening around her, but&lt;br /&gt;Not hearing. She's numb to the world, numb to&lt;br /&gt;Everything. Slowly at first, then all in a torrent,&lt;br /&gt;The feelings, the emotions return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She holds it together at first. She's good at it. She&lt;br /&gt;Has to be. But after a while, memory after memory&lt;br /&gt;Hurt after hurt, she starts to break down. She can't&lt;br /&gt;Hold it in. Slowly, the tears start to fall. Slowly, she&lt;br /&gt;Lets herself get lost amid the current of strife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She nearly falls. She would Have if not for arms that&lt;br /&gt;caught her. She looks at him,Tries to look away, but&lt;br /&gt;he catches her face gently inBoth hands. He sees eyes&lt;br /&gt;that shine despite the Tears that pool in them, stares into&lt;br /&gt;eyes that speak volumes despite being silenced by sobs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To him, shes beautiful. She may not think so, but he&lt;br /&gt;Wants her to see. Wants her to see what he sees, that she&lt;br /&gt;Is worth every bit of effort. Worth every tear she shed,&lt;br /&gt;Worth every word she spoke, worth everything. He looks&lt;br /&gt;At her while she looks at him, niether finding words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon, her tears are not the only ones falling. Heaven itself&lt;br /&gt;Begins to weep in sync with her. Huge cold drops of rain&lt;br /&gt;Descend upon the garden. She lets go of him reluctantly.&lt;br /&gt;He is reluctant to let her go. She runs to the door, fumbles&lt;br /&gt;With the key. She unlocks it goes into the house and locks up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She can't cry anymore. She's let it all out. But that does not&lt;br /&gt;Stop the pain. She peeks through the window. He's still&lt;br /&gt;Standing there. Being soaked by the rain. She sees him shiver&lt;br /&gt;She is torn between letting him wait and letting him in. She&lt;br /&gt;Is scared to let anyone else enter her last sanctuary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside, He smiles despite himself. He would rather choose&lt;br /&gt;To wait than force it upon her. As the rain soaks through his&lt;br /&gt;Shirt, his shoes. Everytime he falters, he reminds himself of what&lt;br /&gt;he said, what he meant. He reminds himself why he is doing this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because she is worth every drop of rain that falls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-2851577523437627689?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2851577523437627689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=2851577523437627689' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2851577523437627689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2851577523437627689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/tears-of-garden.html' title='Tears of a garden'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-7945285363619645647</id><published>2008-11-16T18:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T18:54:26.468+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Penny for my thoughts</title><content type='html'>I saw the post. I've moved on,&lt;br /&gt;but I haven't forgotten&lt;br /&gt;Nor will I ever forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-7945285363619645647?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/7945285363619645647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=7945285363619645647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/7945285363619645647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/7945285363619645647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/penny-for-my-thoughts.html' title='Penny for my thoughts'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-8330122459329420128</id><published>2008-11-14T20:05:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T22:31:53.938+08:00</updated><title type='text'>One for me, One for someone else</title><content type='html'>One for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Magician&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Black &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;suit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, white shirt&lt;br /&gt;buttoned down just a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;few&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;just enough to tease&lt;br /&gt;the &lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ladies&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;coffee&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; eyes &lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;twinkle&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;mischief&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; as he strides&lt;br /&gt;up the stairs &lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tonight&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;once again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;White teeth, blindingly so,&lt;br /&gt;an &lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;enigmatic&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; grin&lt;br /&gt;to &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;engage&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and enamor&lt;br /&gt;the &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;audience&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Magician.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's the star tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One for someone else&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guardian Angel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Slumped&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; against the wall of her room, staring&lt;br /&gt;At the scene before her. Clean bed, neatly&lt;br /&gt;Arranged books, they don't show the real her&lt;br /&gt;The room is too &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;stark&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, does not reflect the &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;chaos&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In her heart. She just wants to break free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's losing it, slowly but surely. Like a tap when&lt;br /&gt;It's just been turned off, the water starts to drip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Slower&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and slower. Till all that is left is the &lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;echo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; as&lt;br /&gt;Each drop hits the bottom of the sink, as it slowly&lt;br /&gt;Slides down and &lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;disappears&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; into the abyss of her soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every minute, every hour, a little of her wastes away&lt;br /&gt;Into nothing. She 's running out of &lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;time&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. She doesn't&lt;br /&gt;Know what she's waiting for. She slowly sinks lower into&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Depression&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. She's about to do something she knows she&lt;br /&gt;Will regret. She can't help it. It's &lt;span style="color:#ccccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;calling&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's about to &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;start&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, her arms start to shake, when firm&lt;br /&gt;But gentle &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hands&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; hold them down. She looks up to see him&lt;br /&gt;Looking at her through &lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;warm&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; eyes. She knows he caught him&lt;br /&gt;Knows he should be angry, but he's not. He simply brings her&lt;br /&gt;Hand up, he gently kisses her wrist. He knows how she's &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;suffering&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sits down, slowly pulls her towards him in a soft, gentle &lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;embrace&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She clings to him, not desperately, but with &lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;relief.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; He feels the&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Desperation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; coursing through the both of them. Two wings on his back&lt;br /&gt;Fold neatly around them like a blanket, protecting them from cold.&lt;br /&gt;He should be in heaven, but he fell from &lt;span style="color:#ccffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;grace&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; a long time ago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is her guardian &lt;span style="color:#ccffff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;angel&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, just as much as she is his&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Waiting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-8330122459329420128?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8330122459329420128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=8330122459329420128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8330122459329420128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8330122459329420128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/one-for-me-one-for-someone-else.html' title='One for me, One for someone else'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-7108651696365248543</id><published>2008-11-12T21:44:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T22:05:50.329+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Same 2 poets, new conversation</title><content type='html'>Another conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;And she looks up at the&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; sky&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, fighting back the urge to cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's standing beside her. He can't feel her, but he knows he has to &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;try&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Behind that &lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;smile&lt;/span&gt; hid her tear stained face, all that she's been through she's fallen from grace&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the numbness he goes to &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;hold her&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, wants to see her still &lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;radiant&lt;/span&gt; face&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tattered&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and torn, bruised and bedraggled. there goes her soul whipped and wasted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gently&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; he picks her up, he holds her because he knows its &lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;fated&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;These arms so strong, they made her feel &lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;wanted&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. still deep inside it felt so &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;wrong&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through her tears, he feels her tense up. he knows she's waiting for the &lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;dawn&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Tomorrow might come, it might never will, all lies in &lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;fate &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;tightly sealed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As was said before, so stay &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;awake&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; today to enjoy the feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Just &lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;wait&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; up, time will heal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just like that, our &lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;faith&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; will be sealed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267771656925925106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SRriaYDwzvI/AAAAAAAAADI/gjkl4DWbq_4/s200/2hands,1heart.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Waiting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-7108651696365248543?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/7108651696365248543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=7108651696365248543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/7108651696365248543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/7108651696365248543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/same-2-poets-new-conversation.html' title='Same 2 poets, new conversation'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SRriaYDwzvI/AAAAAAAAADI/gjkl4DWbq_4/s72-c/2hands,1heart.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-1908037240965845458</id><published>2008-11-11T20:38:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T22:01:42.372+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2 poets, 3 conversations</title><content type='html'>A dialogue between two poets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation 1:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Soak my tears like paper towels and my anger like the sand bag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;And when this day is done your feelings will be the only truth you had&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Release the shackles off my feet, so I can dance again for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;The price of the freedom that you ask, is that of this your heart be true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;This hardcore reversal roleplay's gotta end someday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;Oh but how we act, we can be ourselves in many different ways&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;don't ever slow down, cos time won't wait up.&lt;br /&gt;break the clock yet time wont stop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;But I find time is a friend who holds your cup&lt;br /&gt;who slows with you when its all you've got&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;maybe all it ever does is make you look foward but had I a time machine still I wouldnt be bothered&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;agree I do. memories to be visited are not, but to be held your heart, by your soul be gathered&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;because for all you know tomorrow might never come .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;and when tomorrow does come, i might not be found&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;so keep me awake today, so that we can have our fun&lt;br /&gt;so that when all is said and done, we will say we lived by no bounds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation 3:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;slit my wrists and watch me bleed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;oops I did it again, I really did&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll hold you, tend to your wounds and help you break free&lt;br /&gt;Even if you tried to make your own shackles, even a bit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;an addiction it is, if i stop i get cold feet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;so long and goodbye, it ends tonight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why im here, to take your eyes away from the false treat&lt;br /&gt;There's no need to leave as long as we feel it's right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;sad excuses and false hopes high,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;the world is harsh, the world is blind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;through the haze I will hold you tight&lt;br /&gt;If we see with our souls, we have no need for sight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;she can't stop that cycle, she can't get out,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;please hold her really tight, dont let her go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let it go, let it out. scream with me, hear me shout.&lt;br /&gt;Through the storm I will hold you till once more do you glow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;the lost shine all stuck back,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;wouldn't be that perfect again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a jigsaw puzzle from a sack&lt;br /&gt;each piece still plays a part of the plan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;but she's been wasted and so broken down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;till the sun loses it shine, she wouldn't be found&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll do my best to draw a smile from your frown&lt;br /&gt;but remember, you shine because you have no bounds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;when everything seems to go so wrong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;all she knows is pain is good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I will pull her up, gently sing her a song&lt;br /&gt;ease the pain and set a lighter mood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;what if she wants to be left alone,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;to feel the pain to rid the hurt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd remind you that the pain will pass as she grows&lt;br /&gt;Still holding you as your tears fall on my shirt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;she's a wreck, she's so screwed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;just leave her be,that would be good&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't let you fall, I won't let you brood&lt;br /&gt;I want you to see that my heart is true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;how would she know.who can she trust.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;she has been stupid for people she loved&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all based on faith, i can help you adjust&lt;br /&gt;I'm standing with you on the edge. are you ready to jump?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;free-falling unto the unknown scares me alright &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;but i know i'll be just fine, with you by my side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just believe, and we will glow so bright&lt;br /&gt;I'll hold you tight. you can be my guide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here it is in all it's entirety. Enjoy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-1908037240965845458?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/1908037240965845458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=1908037240965845458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/1908037240965845458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/1908037240965845458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/2-poets-3-conversations.html' title='2 poets, 3 conversations'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-150900715602228168</id><published>2008-11-10T20:20:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T20:28:55.028+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dying to Live</title><content type='html'>Feet crunching through the cobbled&lt;br /&gt;Stones and gravel, I'm walking with&lt;br /&gt;Those close to me. The great tree is in&lt;br /&gt;The distance, once alive, now an eternal&lt;br /&gt;Sentinel watching over us on our journey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We traverse the land, through forests, fields&lt;br /&gt;Quarries and valleys, yet whenever we look up&lt;br /&gt;The tree is always there watching over us. It's&lt;br /&gt;Black branches reaching outlike the hands of a&lt;br /&gt;Wizened old man seeking to comfort us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walk on and on, but we slowly lose hope.&lt;br /&gt;One by one, those with me dwindle. One by one&lt;br /&gt;They lose sight of themselves and leave the rest&lt;br /&gt;Of us to continue on our own. We trudge on&lt;br /&gt;Through rain, through sun, we trudge on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Near the end of the journey, only two of us&lt;br /&gt;Remain. She holds me in her arms as I hold her&lt;br /&gt;In my heart. We finally reach the tree. Its wicker&lt;br /&gt;Form sways in the wind, looking much in need of&lt;br /&gt;Care. We stand, backs to the tree. We hold each other&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-150900715602228168?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/150900715602228168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=150900715602228168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/150900715602228168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/150900715602228168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/dying-to-live.html' title='Dying to Live'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-9130081411878373271</id><published>2008-11-09T20:31:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T20:39:57.683+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life as we want it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://images.icnetwork.co.uk/upl/nechronical/apr2008/6/9/5B7B6931-A872-11F2-B1B33FAB27DEE375.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 360px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://images.icnetwork.co.uk/upl/nechronical/apr2008/6/9/5B7B6931-A872-11F2-B1B33FAB27DEE375.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The sun is rising, soft light falls through the&lt;br /&gt;Window, bathing everything in a soft&lt;br /&gt;Yellow glow. He wakes up, puts his feet on&lt;br /&gt;The floor, he's alone, but now he wants more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walks out the door, flinches as the sun&lt;br /&gt;Hits his face. The light shines on him with such&lt;br /&gt;Grace, almost as if to say, "today is&lt;br /&gt;Your day," that he can do it all his way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walks down the stairs, his house is near the&lt;br /&gt;Beach. He raises his arms, as far as he&lt;br /&gt;Can reach. He pushes the door open with his&lt;br /&gt;Hand, he walks to the beach, down to the sand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's standing on the shore, he seems deep in&lt;br /&gt;Thought. The water round his heels, remembers&lt;br /&gt;What he's taught. So full of life, so full of&lt;br /&gt;Dreams, he greets the sun. He's content, so it seems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hears her voice, and all his doubt is washed&lt;br /&gt;Away. He turns to her, her face as bright As day.&lt;br /&gt;Ever so loving, they meet, they Embrace.&lt;br /&gt;Together, they watch the sun rise with grace.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-9130081411878373271?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/9130081411878373271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=9130081411878373271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/9130081411878373271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/9130081411878373271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/life-as-we-want-it.html' title='Life as we want it?'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-7272593618213908009</id><published>2008-11-08T21:57:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T22:27:29.685+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflections in a mirror</title><content type='html'>Staring through long curls of black and auburn,&lt;br /&gt;Eyes of dark brown survey the scene before&lt;br /&gt;Him. A sheet of crisp white paper sits on the&lt;br /&gt;Table infront of him, illuminated by a candle. He&lt;br /&gt;Tousles the highlighted hair aside as he picks&lt;br /&gt;Up his pen, and lets it all flow from him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The words tumble out from him in a cavalcade&lt;br /&gt;Of metaphors and feelings. He marshalls them&lt;br /&gt;Into lines of thought, lines of emotions, carresses&lt;br /&gt;Each word as it has come from his heart, Writes&lt;br /&gt;Each word with the passion and care of a lover&lt;br /&gt;He gives life to the once blank sheet of paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The candle is nearly out, the light sinking so low&lt;br /&gt;To the table it blackens the wood around it. He&lt;br /&gt;is almost finished. The words have not stopped&lt;br /&gt;Flowing. He has much to write about, much to pen&lt;br /&gt;Out. Finally, the last word has been recorded, has&lt;br /&gt;Been immortalised on the paper. He has done it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Behold, his heart translated in writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-7272593618213908009?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/7272593618213908009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=7272593618213908009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/7272593618213908009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/7272593618213908009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/reflections-in-mirror.html' title='Reflections in a mirror'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-3418567646433924016</id><published>2008-11-06T22:54:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T22:55:55.338+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Tidbit</title><content type='html'>Ruffled by the wind, the writer’s&lt;br /&gt;hair framed his face, marred by&lt;br /&gt;the scars of his vanity.&lt;br /&gt;No wonder he’s single.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was written for me by someone. I like it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-3418567646433924016?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/3418567646433924016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=3418567646433924016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3418567646433924016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3418567646433924016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/post-tidbit.html' title='Post Tidbit'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-5753682906877590080</id><published>2008-11-03T20:25:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T20:40:36.794+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't normally break the fourth wall by talking directly to readers, it's just those who assume I'm talking to them. This time however, I'm going to talk directly to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Songs that I want to be able to use to describe how I feel now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heaven by Bryan Adams&lt;br /&gt;With you by Chris Brown&lt;br /&gt;Accidentally in Love by Counting Crows (great song)&lt;br /&gt;First time ever I saw your face by David Cook&lt;br /&gt;You are so beautiful by Joe Cocker/Taylor Hicks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Songs that actually describe how I feel now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Last Cry by Brian Mcknight&lt;br /&gt;You're beautiful by James Blunt&lt;br /&gt;Dreaming with a broken heart by John Mayer&lt;br /&gt;I'll be right here waiting by Bryan Adams (in a sense)&lt;br /&gt;Passion by Hector Corcin (Instrumental, but you know what I'm getting at)&lt;br /&gt;Better than me by Hinder (certain parts)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Waiting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-5753682906877590080?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/5753682906877590080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=5753682906877590080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5753682906877590080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5753682906877590080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-dont-normally-break-fourth-wall-by.html' title=''/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-6040594100570700512</id><published>2008-10-29T21:17:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T22:06:05.882+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Magic</title><content type='html'>Magic is all around us. I repeat, it is all around us. It's just been given different names. The way water turns into water vapour is called evaporation. The way we fly is called aerodynamics. the way we live is called anthropology. We have let science take over almost every facet of our lives. Not that that's a bad thing, but...lets face it, we are lost, and we have lost. We are lost in our own worlds of technology, drowning in all the latest advancements in communications, learning, development, it never ends. We have lost sight of the magic we once had. Even if we didn't know, we had to guts to believe in it. Now, we never do anything without proof that it works. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why? Where is the faith? Where is the belief? where is the magic? My father used to tell me that he drank milk everyday as a boy to help him grow up strong. Now everyone is afraid to drink milk. Why? Because someone found something bad in ONE product. Then all the other skeletons were expunged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No one has faith anymore. No one believes in anything anymore. That's what I miss. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He's staring at a candle. two candles. actually. He lighes one first, then the other. Their side by side, twin flames reaching upwards in the darkness. He watches as the flames seem almost attracted to each other, eventually creating one bigger than the sum of both seperately. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 384px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/archive/2/25/20080330234517!Candles_in_Love_07406.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He found out something about her, something he should have figured out a long time beforehand. It wasn't a bad thing, but something he knows he should have asked about right from the beginning. It's not a bad thing per say. But he's kicking himself anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? Ask him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Waiting,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-6040594100570700512?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/6040594100570700512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=6040594100570700512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6040594100570700512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6040594100570700512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/magic.html' title='Magic'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-4365391289609047524</id><published>2008-10-28T20:31:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T22:41:45.714+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Requiem</title><content type='html'>Every word I write today, I write with one intent in mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The warm summer evening just draws to a&lt;br /&gt;Close, shimmers cross the water like golden&lt;br /&gt;Cloves. Warm sand a sultry, yet vibrant hue,&lt;br /&gt;Much like ochre under a sky a dark blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even as the last rays of sunshine leaves&lt;br /&gt;Her face, her features still bright, still retain&lt;br /&gt;Their grace. Her beauty so bright, when the sun&lt;br /&gt;has set, But there's still light, the first time we met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's making footsteps in the soft, warm sand&lt;br /&gt;I make my own prints, make them with my hand&lt;br /&gt;She joins me in my quest, she puts her hands in&lt;br /&gt;My prints, we laugh alot, through heartfelt grins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the laughter dies down, the mood shifts so&lt;br /&gt;slowly. The humour gives way, to new feelings&lt;br /&gt;glowing. Let the feelings set in. We see&lt;br /&gt;Each other, and so we speak from within.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All our secrets, fantasies, our goals and&lt;br /&gt;Our dreams, all layed out, for the other to&lt;br /&gt;See. What happens now, if I'll play it safe.&lt;br /&gt;Well, we'll see. Because I'm willing to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;Waiting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-4365391289609047524?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/4365391289609047524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=4365391289609047524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/4365391289609047524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/4365391289609047524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/every-word-i-write-today-i-write-with.html' title='Requiem'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-9016639027282965823</id><published>2008-10-19T20:14:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T22:22:54.793+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Journey</title><content type='html'>I walked this path I set for myself.&lt;br /&gt;without chains, without inhibitions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without regrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I brought with me&lt;br /&gt;A hand to hold, so I knew I was not alone&lt;br /&gt;A consequence, for I knew no one could face them with me&lt;br /&gt;A bit of my past, to remind me of my fears&lt;br /&gt;A bit of my future, to remind me of my courage&lt;br /&gt;A promise, to remind me to return&lt;br /&gt;A broken heart, to remind me why I left&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts, to show me how to follow my head&lt;br /&gt;My feelings, to show me how to follow my heart&lt;br /&gt;My pain, to help me when I was blinded by the light&lt;br /&gt;My hope, to help me when all other lights went out&lt;br /&gt;My tasks, to keep my feet on the ground&lt;br /&gt;My goals, to help me dream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A radiant smile, to bind it all together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;waiting,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-9016639027282965823?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/9016639027282965823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=9016639027282965823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/9016639027282965823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/9016639027282965823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/journey.html' title='Journey'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-6400102857098967044</id><published>2008-10-09T12:04:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T13:48:35.731+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;H&lt;/span&gt;elping to hit me down, I will fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;O&lt;/span&gt;ver and over again, pick myself up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;onely, again and again. I will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;D&lt;/span&gt;eepen my scars. Deepen the pain. See&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;e, See the pain on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;ver so sad, ever so determined&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;rying again and again, telling myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;will make it, telling my self I won't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;et go. Telling myself I will hold on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;eaving me behind, I will push on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; will make of this what I can. I will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;ake of this a new dawn for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;B&lt;/span&gt;roken once, I will collect the pieces&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;ver so gently, piece by piece&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;ake each one and hold it to my chest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;ake each one and like a jigsaw puzzle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;E&lt;/span&gt;ver so softly, fit together, a shattered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;R&lt;/span&gt;eminder of what once was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-6400102857098967044?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/6400102857098967044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=6400102857098967044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6400102857098967044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6400102857098967044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/h-elping-to-hit-me-down-i-will-fall.html' title=''/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-6392763660356644792</id><published>2008-10-06T16:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T16:13:19.997+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.dam7.com/Images/Sunsets/images/myspace-sunset-images-dam7-0002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.dam7.com/Images/Sunsets/images/myspace-sunset-images-dam7-0002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Farewell. I go to seek the great perhaps&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;waiting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-6392763660356644792?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/6392763660356644792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=6392763660356644792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6392763660356644792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6392763660356644792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/10/farewell.html' title=''/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-2398481635363105034</id><published>2008-09-30T15:21:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T15:29:26.023+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Story</title><content type='html'>Note: The following story and names included are entirely fictional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy is dressed for a &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;date&lt;/span&gt;. a pressed white button down shirt, nicely ironed pants. He's carrying a bouquet of &lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;flowers&lt;/span&gt;. He has an unreadable expression on his face. Happiness? &lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;Nervousness&lt;/span&gt;? Anxiety? You can't really tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He reaches the place where he is meeting the girl. A big &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;stone&lt;/span&gt; tablet that's been there for sometime. words etched into the stone, well wishes and so on and so forth. He walks through a set of wrought iron gates, and walks along the path. He soon decides to take a shortcut and walks across the &lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;grass&lt;/span&gt; to the location. Finally, he reaches the meeting spot. &lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;She's&lt;/span&gt; already there. It seems like she's been there forever, waiting for him to arrive. She looks like how he always remembers her. Flowing shoulder length brown hair, tan skin from being out in the sun, warm &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;brown&lt;/span&gt; eyes and a cute button nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey there &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Auguste&lt;/span&gt;, I uhm...I brought this for you." He holds up the bouquet he brought. She stays &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;silent&lt;/span&gt;, almost as if she is just as nervous as he is, too scared to say anything. He waits a few seconds. "I'll just...put it down here then." He places it on the stone tablet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I came here today because I need someone to &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;talk&lt;/span&gt; to, and you are by far, the best &lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;listener&lt;/span&gt; I ever knew. Dad's &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;kicked&lt;/span&gt; me out, mom's argueing with dad over his decision to kick me out. I'm crashing at a friend's place, but I'm not sure what I can do now".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She doesn't say anything, just looks at him. He knows what she's &lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;thinking&lt;/span&gt;. "I tried apologizing, yes. But he's in firewall mode. He needs to cool down first, then I'll go back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sighs. Just by listening, she helped him to see the &lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;solution&lt;/span&gt; to the problem. She had a talent for that. "Life has been...&lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;tough&lt;/span&gt;. It's hard to explain. Ever since...you know...it's been hard to &lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;adjust&lt;/span&gt;. I find myself &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;dreaming&lt;/span&gt; during the day when I should be awake, and having &lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;nightmares&lt;/span&gt; when I should be asleep. I don't know anything anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, out of respect, she remains &lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;silent&lt;/span&gt;. "Look you don't have to say anything. I just needed to &lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;confide&lt;/span&gt; in someone. And I know I can &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;trust&lt;/span&gt; you.......Thank you. For &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;." He places his hand on the &lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;tablet&lt;/span&gt;, remembering the last time he etched something into it. He remembers every carving and every fault of the tablet. He should know. He carved it himself. For a long time, he just stands there, &lt;span style="color:#66cccc;"&gt;remembering&lt;/span&gt; everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, he places the bouquet infront of her and walks away from the place, smiling. She's smiling too, only her's is &lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;frozen&lt;/span&gt; in the &lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;picture&lt;/span&gt; of her. The last picture to ever be taken of her. It stands directly infront of the tablet. It reads&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Auguste P. Libere &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;April 15, 1983 - April 22, 2005&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Loved by all, most by one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;"I want you to live without regret"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's &lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;walking&lt;/span&gt; away now, it seems as though a great &lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;weight&lt;/span&gt; has been lifted from his shoulders. He whistles lightly as he walks across the &lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;grass&lt;/span&gt;, and out the wrought iron gates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I never wished for the stars, only someone to watch them with"&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-2398481635363105034?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2398481635363105034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=2398481635363105034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2398481635363105034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2398481635363105034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/09/story.html' title='Story'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-2397641550557043572</id><published>2008-09-29T09:09:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T09:46:03.226+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Catharsis?</title><content type='html'>Why is it that almost everything I do causes me or someone else &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;pain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh thats right, because I'm an &lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;idiot&lt;/span&gt;. I'm a &lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;stupid&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;tactless&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;masochistic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt; idiot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand why you had to say that. Not that I &lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;hate&lt;/span&gt; you for saying that, more I &lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;hate&lt;/span&gt; myself for my &lt;span style="color:#cccccc;"&gt;inability&lt;/span&gt; to have said anything more &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;meaningful&lt;/span&gt; when you said that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please understand why I do what I do/I did/I'm doing. Its a part of me that has remained constant throughout my life, either because I have been unable to &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;change&lt;/span&gt; it or because I don't want to &lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;change&lt;/span&gt; it. I'm still not sure which. In situations like these, the line seems to blur between the two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It might be a &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;phase&lt;/span&gt;, I don't know. I really don't know. I suppose only time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc66;"&gt;Enjoy&lt;/span&gt; yourself by the way :) I'm not writing this to stop you. Its just a way of me to get rid of some &lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;angst&lt;/span&gt; :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS I wouldn't be surprised if you read this and &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;laughed&lt;/span&gt; :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;waiting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-2397641550557043572?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2397641550557043572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=2397641550557043572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2397641550557043572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2397641550557043572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/09/catharsis.html' title='Catharsis?'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-1390382314943321232</id><published>2008-09-28T21:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T21:16:58.272+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Matters.</title><content type='html'>First post on this blog ever about family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big arguement today. I got so fired up I yelled at my dad, but immediately after I wish I hadn't. He's got a hell of a lot of pride, that man. Even when I apoligized after shouting, he wanted to throw me out. Only mom managed to stop him. So now there's a stony silence. All attempts to communicate with dad have been in vein.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look, don't take this the wrong way, but when/if I become a father, I hope I'm nothing like you. Sure, you respect us, you're the breadwinner, and all that, but you're too blunt, too much pride. You don't know when to back down. I have nothing more to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-1390382314943321232?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/1390382314943321232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=1390382314943321232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/1390382314943321232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/1390382314943321232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/09/family-matters.html' title='Family Matters.'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-385109869369130349</id><published>2008-09-25T20:03:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T20:20:16.164+08:00</updated><title type='text'>New promises, happier promises</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I know you're uncertain of the future. But frankly, so am I. We don't know how long it would take, or if it would even happen at all. But thats what hope's for. It keeps us happy while we wait, keeps us content for now. So at the end of it all, if it does happen, that hope has helped us prepare for it. If it doesn't, then at least during that time we were waiting, we were somewhat content. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Once whole, once broken, now sewn back together&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Her moods as changing, as the turbulent weather.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;But no matter the cost, with her hand in my palm,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;I'll wait for her, for the weather to calm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll keep thinking about that, and I hope you do too. I have...one last question for you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"When alls been said and done, when this ink no longer shines,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Would you still allow me...to hold your hand in mine?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.insuremeblog.com/agent/blogimages/holding%20hands.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-385109869369130349?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/385109869369130349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=385109869369130349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/385109869369130349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/385109869369130349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/09/new-promises-happier-promises.html' title='New promises, happier promises'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-6606483160996607530</id><published>2008-09-07T20:55:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T21:41:45.894+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Stand</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.custerwest.org/custerlastcommandluce.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.custerwest.org/custerlastcommandluce.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;All around me, comrades fight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They fall. Chaos, but we find our &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;centre. We find our purpose&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Someone falls, we move to help, but&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Too late, he is gone. His sacrifice&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Will not be in vain. We will take this day yet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A lull in the battle, the enemy withdraws&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A trap we know, to bait us out. No, we will&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stand. We will renew our vigour&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Raise our voices. Sound the &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Drums of defiance. Our last chant&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Will echo across the memories of this day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-6606483160996607530?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/6606483160996607530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=6606483160996607530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6606483160996607530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6606483160996607530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/09/last-stand.html' title='Last Stand'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-7060677379887527743</id><published>2008-08-27T07:33:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T07:49:31.386+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Untitled</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://pinker.wjh.harvard.edu/photos/cape_cod/images/blue%20sky%20sailboat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://pinker.wjh.harvard.edu/photos/cape_cod/images/blue%20sky%20sailboat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel like an idiot for letting you go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-7060677379887527743?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/7060677379887527743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=7060677379887527743' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/7060677379887527743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/7060677379887527743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/08/untitled.html' title='Untitled'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-6976598559634228750</id><published>2008-08-15T18:50:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T13:48:23.544+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Promise</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SKVfzn-34GI/AAAAAAAAACs/wvwZl11t45A/s1600-h/happysurprise2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234695482398728290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SKVfzn-34GI/AAAAAAAAACs/wvwZl11t45A/s320/happysurprise2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its amazing how colours can change the mood of a picture. The word on the ring says "forever" by the way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-6976598559634228750?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/6976598559634228750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=6976598559634228750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6976598559634228750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6976598559634228750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/08/promise.html' title='A Promise'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SKVfzn-34GI/AAAAAAAAACs/wvwZl11t45A/s72-c/happysurprise2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-2059918742515831722</id><published>2008-08-09T12:41:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T13:21:35.473+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversation</title><content type='html'>So Eric, are you sure there is no other way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Yes Brandon, I'm sure of it. There's nothing else I can do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;But is what you want Eric? Are you prepared for the consequences should it go wrong?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I...I don't know if it's what I want, but I know that if I don't do it, I'd just be hurting myself. Moreover I'd be hurting her Lora, I'd be hurting her. Maybe not now, but in the long run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;If you won't listen to your heart, at least listen to your head Eric, don't just give up like that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Shakespeare. You always were fascinated with words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my whole life Brandon. At least it was before she came into my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;You see!! That's my point!! You've changed in the time you've had with her. And you may not realise it, but so has she! By doing this you're breaking her more than yourself!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what would you have me do Lora? Just stay with her and pretend everything's alright?! I cant. I just.....no lora, I can't. I have nothing but my words left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;She won't go easily Eric. You know that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;Exactly!!! Do you see now? You may not have much to lose, but she does!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;But it may be the best thing for her Lora.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;How can you take his side?! Do you not see what he's doing?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;I'm sorry Lora, but I can't argue with him there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;Well, it seems that my arguements fall upon deaf ears. Fine. I'll leave now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Brandon, and can you also thank Lora for me? For listening&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;I will Eric. Kirstie doesn't know...does she?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That I'm dying? No. That would just make things worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Agreed. So...what happens now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is done; the bell invites me. Here it not, for it is a knell That summons me to heaven or hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;You always loved your quotes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not as much as the love that I have for Kirstie. Brandon, Can I ask for one more favour from you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Ask. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want you to watch over her when I'm gone. Be there for her...because I won't be. Would you promise me this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;I promise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;If there is nothing else, I too will take my leave.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Farewell Brandon. For death holds no secrets from a man who enters the shroud of his own accord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;Goodbye brother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-2059918742515831722?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2059918742515831722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=2059918742515831722' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2059918742515831722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2059918742515831722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/08/conversation.html' title='Conversation'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-4479822425972889376</id><published>2008-08-06T21:48:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T15:03:00.184+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter sunrise</title><content type='html'>The weary traveller walks through&lt;br /&gt;Shadow, eyes flitting from crack&lt;br /&gt;To crevice. eyes wide as they scan&lt;br /&gt;The snow and ice, looking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He knows they are around him, he&lt;br /&gt;Can't hide from the haunting cadavers&lt;br /&gt;That follow him. Every step shadowed&lt;br /&gt;Every look mimicked, he cannot hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One grabs his leg, he panics, shoves&lt;br /&gt;Away the mangled hand. They are&lt;br /&gt;Closing in on him. He cant run or&lt;br /&gt;Hide. They close in on him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then as one, they all vanish as&lt;br /&gt;The first ray's of sunlight wash&lt;br /&gt;Over the white landscape, Rendering&lt;br /&gt;Darkness to but a shadow below the traveller&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He blinks. Wondering if it was&lt;br /&gt;Real. He takes comfort in the warm&lt;br /&gt;Light, invigorating him, livening him.&lt;br /&gt;He walks on. Leaving behind the nightmare&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mangled hand lies buried in the ice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-4479822425972889376?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/4479822425972889376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=4479822425972889376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/4479822425972889376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/4479822425972889376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/08/winter-sunrise.html' title='Winter sunrise'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-2288918813496729008</id><published>2008-08-06T07:12:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T07:17:00.698+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Raising Roses</title><content type='html'>Well, time to raise another few roses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/28/Red_rose.jpg/393px-Red_rose.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/28/Red_rose.jpg/393px-Red_rose.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I raise a rose to one who has lost her way, so that she may find it again. When all seems lost, know that you can still follow the footsteps of those who came before you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I raise a rose not to a friend, but to a memory of a friend. I hope wherever you are now, whatever you are doing, you are happy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-2288918813496729008?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2288918813496729008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=2288918813496729008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2288918813496729008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2288918813496729008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/08/raising-roses.html' title='Raising Roses'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-403864088856483378</id><published>2008-08-02T16:16:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T17:33:03.460+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mindset</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.the-alcoholic.com/images/the-alcoholic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.the-alcoholic.com/images/the-alcoholic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;School helps keep it in check, projects help keep it focused, and so on and so forth. But lets face it, my brain is loosing control. Already I find it hard to string sentences together to make them sound coherent, already I find myself losing my train of thought. Words float around me drawing my focus out. The book is on hold till further notice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My soul, though frayed, is alive. My body is battered, but well. But my mind is dying. Souls can be revitalised, My body can heal. but my mind cant be replaced. whatever I lose is lost. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even reading comes harder now. I used to be able to pick up a book and read from sunrise to sunset without noticing the time. I used to spend hours and hours reading and rereading my favourites. Now it takes a huge effort just to do so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Need to pull myself out of this rut. need to get back up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Falling slowly, but no one can see&lt;br /&gt;Me, no one to find my broken sword&lt;br /&gt;Stabbed into the rock that is my Soul&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The rock that is my sanctuary&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No one will move, budge, tamper&lt;br /&gt;Destroy, break or bend it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;However, on the rock stands a&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;House, once standing tall and bold&lt;br /&gt;Now, every stone worn down, every tile&lt;br /&gt;Cracked, Memories are all that remain. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Even windows let no light through&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Steadfast in my values, unyielding in&lt;br /&gt;Spirit, but even they cannot save me from&lt;br /&gt;The darkness outside the failing light,&lt;br /&gt;For already the flames begin to flicker&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My memories give me experience, give me power&lt;br /&gt;But that power is fast leaving what once was&lt;br /&gt;Soon even memories will not help me&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I hold it in for however long I can&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hold it in till i no longer have the strength&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Like a shroud it will engulf me.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-403864088856483378?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/403864088856483378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=403864088856483378' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/403864088856483378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/403864088856483378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/08/mindset.html' title='Mindset'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-2927058199303594440</id><published>2008-07-28T21:31:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T22:40:56.463+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Born to a Solstice</title><content type='html'>A life that thrills the marble man&lt;br /&gt;A life that fills the hole&lt;br /&gt;Holds more value than the sculpted land&lt;br /&gt;As that life becomes a goal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Experience gained through your amber eyes&lt;br /&gt;Can never fool the best&lt;br /&gt;For as the colours change, your eyes go blind&lt;br /&gt;And memories are all you have left&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can live, but are you alive?&lt;br /&gt;Is your spirit strong?&lt;br /&gt;Not unless bound is your life&lt;br /&gt;Between you and another, a bond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some memories fade, others stay&lt;br /&gt;Etched into a failing spirit&lt;br /&gt;But memories bring up what has gone away&lt;br /&gt;Bring them back for a visit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trails left on a summer solstice&lt;br /&gt;It’s your choice to follow&lt;br /&gt;But know which trail that should suffice&lt;br /&gt;Lest it fades in the glow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, life rewards the waiting soul&lt;br /&gt;Gives peace and removes strife&lt;br /&gt;Joy not as a gift, but as a goal.&lt;br /&gt;You live, but are you alive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-2927058199303594440?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2927058199303594440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=2927058199303594440' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2927058199303594440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2927058199303594440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/born-to-solstice.html' title='Born to a Solstice'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-3900233630227247173</id><published>2008-07-25T21:54:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:03:35.455+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Red on Black</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SInbsDwmWxI/AAAAAAAAACk/G-PANH4NCzQ/s1600-h/black+and+white.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226950392510044946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SInbsDwmWxI/AAAAAAAAACk/G-PANH4NCzQ/s400/black+and+white.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Georgetown. Brings back so many memories. This may sound weird, but I miss dressing in professional attire. Oh well, life goes on&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-3900233630227247173?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/3900233630227247173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=3900233630227247173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3900233630227247173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3900233630227247173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/red-on-black.html' title='Red on Black'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SInbsDwmWxI/AAAAAAAAACk/G-PANH4NCzQ/s72-c/black+and+white.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-2312403601206283032</id><published>2008-07-18T21:47:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T22:28:20.635+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Words of Wisdom, Angels of Absolution</title><content type='html'>No one makes it alone. There's always someone in the background. Even if some kid claims he crawled up from the depths of some neighbourhood and brought himself up of his own accord, thats a downright lie. Someone, whether living or dead, would have inspired him to do so. No one makes it alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"True wisdom is attained when you begin to think with your heart and feel with your brain"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc00;"&gt;Confused? So was I when I read this one. Now I know. Do you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You want to know what magic is? Its not changing a pack of cards to a bird, no pulling rabbits out of hats, no slight of hand. You don't have to sell your soul to do it. Now, when you see someone in need, and you help them, that feeling you get? Thats magic. When Someone is crying and you hold them till they stop. Now thats real magic. The tiniest gesture a human can make is enough to make someone happy. Now that...is the mystery"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;A trusted friend said this to me once. He passed on already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You broke, burnt, shattered, tore, crushed, and other counless words which I won't bother to say, my heart. You were burning enough inside to leave me cold outside. You had no right, and yet you did it. And now, after I picked up the pieces, I finally put the last shard of myself back in place. As much as I want to return the favour to you, to drag you down, I am going to forgive you. I don't even know why I am doing this, only that I know I have to."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;Don't know who said this. Actually I just cant remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others" - &lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;'Our Deepest Fear' by Marianne Williamson. One of the most inspiring poems ever written. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cheers&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-2312403601206283032?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2312403601206283032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=2312403601206283032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2312403601206283032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2312403601206283032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/words-of-wisdom-angels-of-absolution.html' title='Words of Wisdom, Angels of Absolution'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-179673840924676003</id><published>2008-07-16T11:37:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T11:49:27.433+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sprung to my mind</title><content type='html'>The piano (The heart asks first/pleasure) by Michael Niman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its just a piano/strings instrumental, but you can hear the emotion through every note. From the minor fall to the major lift, from the changes between minors and majors, when the strings sound their first note, its so...emotional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are...some quotes that I found from a long time ago. Either I used them or they were said to me. I don't have to say whom I'm talking about because they know who they are :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never wished for someone who could offer me the moon and stars...just someone to lay down with and watch them is enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes loving can be so painful and difficult, but it's amazing to know that no matter howhard it is, loving someone is still the simplest reason why you always find yourself smiling."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone in the world is scared. And sometimes, it takes two scared people to do one brave thing: to fall in love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-179673840924676003?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/179673840924676003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=179673840924676003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/179673840924676003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/179673840924676003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/sprung-to-my-mind.html' title='Sprung to my mind'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-275706443560397407</id><published>2008-07-13T22:06:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T22:19:31.846+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflections</title><content type='html'>It was night. The grass, warmed by day, was just beginning to cool into a mellow feel as the two of them lay down to watch the sky. they leaned against the trunk of a large birch. the only one for miles around. T&lt;br /&gt;here was something magical about the place to them, how the grass was always smooth and the tree always seemed to be there, its branches sheltering them by day and yet allowing them to see the stars through its leaves by night. Her head was resting just under his. She was leaning into him. He was keeping her warm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their heartbeats were synchronised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they saw, off in the distant heavens. One, then two, then they all cascaded across the darkness. Wave after wave of light shone through the black. She saw the comets first hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He chose to look at them through her eyes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-275706443560397407?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/275706443560397407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=275706443560397407' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/275706443560397407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/275706443560397407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/reflections.html' title='Reflections'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-287885421560535131</id><published>2008-07-12T20:14:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T20:19:37.236+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Raising Roses</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Time to raise another few roses. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/28/Red_rose.jpg/393px-Red_rose.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I raise a rose for someone who was, and still is, very special/very close to me. We may just be friends now, but it used to be more than that. Please know, I didn't want it to end like that. But I felt that otherwise I'd just hurt you even more if I pressed on with it. Please know that I still care for you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I raise a rose for two people, who for the past few weeks/months have been working themselves to the bone for school/other events. I wish you good luck, whether its exams or projects or performances that you have to do, I hope your load is lightened as time goes on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers, Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-287885421560535131?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/287885421560535131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=287885421560535131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/287885421560535131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/287885421560535131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/raising-roses.html' title='Raising Roses'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-1602778953769533500</id><published>2008-07-11T10:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T10:26:14.683+08:00</updated><title type='text'>First Chord</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Adrenaline pumping, I'm standing out here&lt;br /&gt;Sweating and waiting for the moment that&lt;br /&gt;Will release us all. I hear them&lt;br /&gt;from Behind the velvet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As we wait, others scurry around&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Us, checking and prepping. Making&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sure no slipups are made. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;At last, we are ready. The curtain rises&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One strum, one beat, we are ready&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We rock tonight.&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/199/505972552_3a8357b0fb.jpg?v=0" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-1602778953769533500?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/1602778953769533500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=1602778953769533500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/1602778953769533500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/1602778953769533500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/first-chord.html' title='First Chord'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-3781361636561171867</id><published>2008-07-10T17:12:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T17:18:26.685+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A short piece</title><content type='html'>A life born on the plywood stage&lt;div&gt;Is bound by that which circumstance &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cannot create, only discover. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How true that is. Don't you think?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-3781361636561171867?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/3781361636561171867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=3781361636561171867' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3781361636561171867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3781361636561171867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/short-piece.html' title='A short piece'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-4185834402142627431</id><published>2008-07-08T20:25:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T07:58:13.739+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The 1st of a new tradition: Raising Roses</title><content type='html'>Its time I introduced a new tradition to this blog. Raising Roses will be a slightly more frequent version of Raise a Rose, which I am starting a group for in Facebook. Every now and then I will honour someone on this blog. I will raise a rose for them. &lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/28/Red_rose.jpg/393px-Red_rose.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I raise a rose for A man I met in the street today. He seemed troubled. I hope that whatever he is thinking about will resolve itself.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I raise a rose for a former friend. (two actually, for this can apply to both of them). I hope she knows that I'm ok, just as I hope that she is ok&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I raise a rose for the one who fell so far. I hav seen you pull yourself back up. I wish you all the best as you make your way back to where you once were. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I raise a rose for my grandfather. May he make a speedy recovery from the heart attack. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-4185834402142627431?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/4185834402142627431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=4185834402142627431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/4185834402142627431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/4185834402142627431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/1st-of-new-tradition-raising-roses.html' title='The 1st of a new tradition: Raising Roses'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-8123023297809637482</id><published>2008-07-07T19:53:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:03:36.892+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nostalgic about GYLC (again)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, its high time I uploaded pictures. here they are:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The morning sky in Washington DC. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220239380761938482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SHIEDwzSCjI/AAAAAAAAABE/l3aA1tFpL2M/s320/CIMG3846.JPG" border="0" /&gt;My Roomates: Binsoo and Rushiel. Good times&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220240544283726354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SHIFHfQfkhI/AAAAAAAAABM/ABf_u5WYy7c/s320/CIMG3918.JPG" border="0" /&gt; Philadelphia. Don't ask about the sign or my hat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220241217562067314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SHIFurajwXI/AAAAAAAAABU/iTgsyygP4wk/s320/CIMG3926.JPG" border="0" /&gt; From left to right: Aswari, Katie Lee, Ashlynn, me, Katie P.E., and Cheryl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220241904408850578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SHIGWqHl8JI/AAAAAAAAABc/i_IIWXFQ7vk/s320/CIMG3906.JPG" border="0" /&gt; Dupont Circle fountain: Me, Hansen, Ossai, Darren, Pamela, and Deborah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220242392120377362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SHIGzC_FQBI/AAAAAAAAABk/HzsxclC73VA/s320/CIMG3820.JPG" border="0" /&gt; New York cityline&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220243149957232994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SHIHfKJd-WI/AAAAAAAAABs/J_jr2XR1IDI/s320/CIMG3961.JPG" border="0" /&gt; Sunset and Lady Liberty: as seen from the cruise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220243653842107858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SHIH8fQ-_dI/AAAAAAAAAB0/6eQHcf3CxEI/s320/CIMG3967.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Thats all the pictures I want to upload for now. I'll upload more as and when I feel the need to&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-8123023297809637482?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8123023297809637482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=8123023297809637482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8123023297809637482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8123023297809637482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/nostalgic-about-gylc-again.html' title='Nostalgic about GYLC (again)'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SHIEDwzSCjI/AAAAAAAAABE/l3aA1tFpL2M/s72-c/CIMG3846.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-6994268148730863527</id><published>2008-07-07T10:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T10:10:39.487+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Finally over that hump. I seriously was thinking about dropping. And even though I've refocused myself again, the idea is already there. Just hope I know what I'm doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well on saturday met with GYLC friends for mugging session. Os, As, and my poly studies lol. We all just went to "create a learning environment", as andy put it. Well we actually did study. We also played bridge for like 20-30 minutes. I forget how long it actually was. It was Chris, Charis, Andy, Susana (charis's friend from vjc whom i just met that day) and me. It was nice to see them again. Even if we weren't all dressed professionally waiting for a simulation to take place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-6994268148730863527?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/6994268148730863527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=6994268148730863527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6994268148730863527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6994268148730863527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/finally-over-that-hump.html' title=''/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-5293157639127694757</id><published>2008-07-02T13:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T14:17:40.737+08:00</updated><title type='text'>highs and lows</title><content type='html'>With every high, comes a low. At least thats how the saying goes. GYLC was great, but now that its over, I'm getting a bit....depressed? Not sure what word to use here. I'm more distant from my class than before I left, but I guess thats what happens when you don't have contact with them for three weeks. The workload isn't helping either. Missing a week of school sure can pile work up on you. I have alot of catching up to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;Figures, im suffering from post GYLC depression&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact is, all these things don't seem to matter much to me. I want to go back to GYLC. I liked it there. Being surrounded by people from different backgrounds and cultures...made me feel like I was back in Thailand again. I missed that. I still miss that. Even if it was only 12 days, in those 12 days, we did so much stuff together we sort of bonded lol. Almost like a 2nd family. Well that family is sort of spread out across the world. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking you know. Thinking a lot about whether this was something I really wanted to do. Sure, CMM is a great course. But lately, after going to GYLC, it's lost some of its appeal. I enjoy writing alot, but the writing I enjoy isn't the straightforward style they teach in journalism. I mean, what is the point in bringing the reader directly to the subject without them doing much thinking for themselves? I prefer a style of writing where the reader must make the journey themselves through the writing to get to the subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking of dropping out of school. It isn't definite, I haven't thought much about it, just the "what if" phase. It would give me more time to work on my book. Richard Branson dropped out of high school, and look where he is now. Also, it would give me more time to do other things. Things that I've always wanted to try but never really had the time or guts to try. hmm. Makes you think doesn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be free, shake of these chains&lt;br /&gt;And shackles that hold and hinder me&lt;br /&gt;I want to jump up, grab the sky and be&lt;br /&gt;Somebody, somebody that everyone&lt;br /&gt;knows, that everyone loves, Someone&lt;br /&gt;Who lives the life he wants to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that too much to ask?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-5293157639127694757?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/5293157639127694757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=5293157639127694757' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5293157639127694757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5293157639127694757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/07/highs-and-lows.html' title='highs and lows'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-7210639621641735020</id><published>2008-06-30T10:16:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T10:20:14.568+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Revelation</title><content type='html'>I am strong because I show weakness&lt;br /&gt;I am correct because I know my mistakes&lt;br /&gt;I am a lover because I am a fighter&lt;br /&gt;I have no fear because I have already shown it&lt;br /&gt;I can be wise because I was foolish&lt;br /&gt;I can smile because I know how to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-7210639621641735020?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/7210639621641735020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=7210639621641735020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/7210639621641735020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/7210639621641735020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/06/revelation.html' title='Revelation'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-5262678714517992806</id><published>2008-06-28T17:22:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T17:47:47.901+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back from the USA</title><content type='html'>Well things there were really really fun. I already miss people. But it had to end sometime :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;from Washington we went to New York city. we stayed on the campus of Manhattan College, which I must say was quite....interesting I must say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cruise/dance was on the last night we spent in new york, so that was fun. the only chance we had to break loose and get rid of the tension gathered over the past couple of weeks. Danced with a few people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say, being around so many people from so many places made me feel...like I was back in my international school. so many different races there, I actually felt relaxed around them lol. Funny eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so many people. especially from my LGM. Its amazing how close we got to each other in only 12 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have to go for now. Pics will be uploaded soon.&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-5262678714517992806?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/5262678714517992806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=5262678714517992806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5262678714517992806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5262678714517992806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/06/back-from-usa.html' title='Back from the USA'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-4233889472595336588</id><published>2008-06-20T18:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T18:33:28.055+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Global Scholar</title><content type='html'>Currently in :Sheraton National Hotel, Arlington VA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well the conference is actually quite fun lol. Just that we have really weird timings sometimes. got to see the white house and the holocaust museum. even went to the lincoln memorial. today we're doing a simulation for the UN security council. hope I get Ambassador as a role. Alot easier for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, didn't expect that to be said. Oh well, what's done is done. Don't worry.&lt;br /&gt;thats all i have to say for now. the following is an excerpt from the book I'm writing. Enjoy :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The sun rises anew everyday. The Eastern Light casts long shadows across the rocks and trees. As it rises, the shadows retreat, till they are almost non existent, when the sun is highest in the sky, only visible in cracks and crevices. Then, as it drops, shadows become bolder, creeping out of their holes and pits. Till finally, the Western Fire falls, and the world is once agen plunged into darkness. Even then, we are not made blind, for we are granted the stars, small pinpricks of light, the very beacons of hope we strive for."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-4233889472595336588?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/4233889472595336588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=4233889472595336588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/4233889472595336588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/4233889472595336588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/06/global-scholar.html' title='Global Scholar'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-6469796229501786323</id><published>2008-06-14T11:45:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T11:49:57.272+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Edit</title><content type='html'>That'll do just fine :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmm, I thought the book would be great if I did it like an epistolory, but the intro sort of doesn't fit in with the rest of the book, so scrap that. I'm starting from scratch. Keeping the intro (well most of it), but changing the style completely. I'll let you all know what its gonna be like when I actually finalise it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GYLC tmr!!!! spending two weeks in Washington DC and New York City as part of a global scholars conference isnt actually top on my list of things I want to do this summer, but hey, it should be fun. Only problem is I have to be at the airport at friggin 3 am. That sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, untill after i come back, Au revoir mes chers et cheries,&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-6469796229501786323?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/6469796229501786323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=6469796229501786323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6469796229501786323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6469796229501786323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/06/edit.html' title='Edit'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-979028946350984438</id><published>2008-06-03T19:43:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T11:54:18.612+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Book</title><content type='html'>I started writing again. Not just poetry either :P. I'll let you know whether I actually make the effort to finish this piece this time. I'll probably be done...next june, taking in to consideration the length and the amount of time I would try to put into it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A book lol. Or something as close to a book as I can. Something for my own personal use. I started to write one some time ago. "Seasons of Emotion" I called it, but I never actually got past the first 7 pages or so. Maybe I better get that one done first before I even think about trying to start a new one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Characters that appear in Seasons of Emotion (well I plan on including them anyway)(and in no particular order)&lt;br /&gt;Ethan Livingstone&lt;br /&gt;Althea Livingstone&lt;br /&gt;Trent Arnolds&lt;br /&gt;Stacey Reynolds&lt;br /&gt;Enrique Bavaris&lt;br /&gt;Sylvie Étoile&lt;br /&gt;Yves Sandoute&lt;br /&gt;Michael Cheng&lt;br /&gt;Rachel Yang&lt;br /&gt;Olivia Yang&lt;br /&gt;Antoine Salvatore&lt;br /&gt;Raven Berkeley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try to fit them all in somehow. Every character is different. I may add some more as I write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-979028946350984438?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/979028946350984438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=979028946350984438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/979028946350984438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/979028946350984438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/06/chronicled-and-archived.html' title='Book'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-479458629390912373</id><published>2008-06-01T19:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T21:42:18.139+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Les Examens</title><content type='html'>New month, so its an occasion to remember. The rest of this post will be in french.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Les Examens avez commencer la semaine prochaine. M'aide s'il vous plait. Je ne suis pas prêt. Journalisme est plus facile, parce que j'ai fait avant. C'est médias et société qui est difficile. C'est très embrouillant. Comment est-ce que la différence entre liberitarian et responsabilité sociale?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J'essayerai de faire mon meilleur. Mais je pense également à d'autres choses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bientôt&lt;br /&gt;Poèt Curatif&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-479458629390912373?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/479458629390912373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=479458629390912373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/479458629390912373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/479458629390912373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/06/les-examens.html' title='Les Examens'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-268600990587406222</id><published>2008-05-30T07:13:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T20:46:51.290+08:00</updated><title type='text'>ultimatum?</title><content type='html'>Currently listening: I survived you by clay aiken&lt;br /&gt;Ironic choice of song huh? I ran out of stuff to listen to. Need to go find more music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're still wondering, yea. Its normal. You want to know something? At this moment I don't care if you hate me/want to drive a knife through my head. You want to blame me for everything? Fine. I know I did some things I shouldn't have done, but I'm sure as hell not accepting responsibility for EVERYTHING you threw at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to think of it, maybe you're right. This should never have happened. It. Should. Never. Have. Happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You keep talking of what I've done to your life, how "peachy"? Well come out of YOUR little world and look around for a few moments. You aren't the only one whose life feels like crap you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever. You want to be left alone now. I'll do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I refuse to live with regrets, so I am going to say it now.&lt;br /&gt;no regrets no regrets no regrets no regrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-268600990587406222?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/268600990587406222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=268600990587406222' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/268600990587406222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/268600990587406222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/ultimatum.html' title='ultimatum?'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-734495253078830448</id><published>2008-05-29T14:23:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T22:15:03.515+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Catharsis? maybe not.</title><content type='html'>I've been typing and deleting alot of lines so far, so bear with me. This is hard to word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel left out...of alot of things really. Maybe I'm just imagining it, but everyone, especially a few people, is starting to feel distant. Old friends, new friends, doesn't matter. They're distancing. and I dont like the feeling. Sometimes they feel so distant I don't know if I should even say anything at all, because I might drive them further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I...cant help being who I am, I cant help it. Its something everyone has to live with, whether thats a good thing or bad thing I still don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its times like these when I really feel I can relate to ballads/slow rock/anything with slow heavy bass, violins and nitty gritty singing. The raw emotion that goes through each song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exams coming up. I should be ok with them, unless something goes horribly wrong. and not much can go wrong right?&lt;br /&gt;OK.....I'm going to take a break from that. here are some great lines I've come across over time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Light draws our eyes, but shadows hold more stories&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the one who will stay behind to pick up the pieces and make something beautiful out of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Many people speak through words. but a writer has to be able to make words speak for themselves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life's like Dark chocolate. Bittersweet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-734495253078830448?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/734495253078830448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=734495253078830448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/734495253078830448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/734495253078830448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/catharsis-maybe-not.html' title='Catharsis? maybe not.'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-2838570648185906371</id><published>2008-05-27T08:42:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T09:55:58.242+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Currently listening to: does it matter? you know its gonna be a slow rock song :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started listening to them more and more often lately. I think it's because I'm starting to prefer the more soulful/emotional songs. So, people like (in no particular order) David Cook, Aerosmith, Extreme, Rolling Stones, The Cure, Journey, Duran Duran, Peter Gabriel, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Green day (at least that september song), Nirvana, Eric Clapton, Hinder, the Scorpions, Guns n' Roses Etc. The list goes on and on and on and on.....Oh, almost forgot poison as well. not a bad band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently stuck on some songs by Michael Johns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Dream on...dream on...dream on...dream untill your dreams come true"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can hear the emotion from his voice lol. I can sing abit, as in like for leisure kind of thing. but I'll admit, I will NEVER be able to sing like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To whoever reads this, if you want a challenging read, read "Mirror Mirror" by Gregory Macguire. Incredibly hard to read, but once you understand it you won't put the book down. Alot of great one liners in the book as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a heartbeat, anything can happen&lt;br /&gt;Wars can start, senses can sharpen&lt;br /&gt;Peace can be made, a life can be torn&lt;br /&gt;A love can broken, then reborn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was taught (by myself) to smile all the time. I'm happy to say I can still do that :P. Go me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-2838570648185906371?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/2838570648185906371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=2838570648185906371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2838570648185906371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/2838570648185906371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/currently-listening-to-does-it-matter.html' title=''/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-3696234321403085529</id><published>2008-05-24T21:55:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T22:08:47.369+08:00</updated><title type='text'>time of our lives</title><content type='html'>Lyrics from "the time of our lives" by david cook. lyrics I really want to be able to say I live up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been waiting for my dreams&lt;br /&gt;To turn into something I could believe in&lt;br /&gt;And looking for that Magic rainbow&lt;br /&gt;On the horizon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't see it Until I let go&lt;br /&gt;Gave into love and watched all the bitterness burn&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm coming alive, body and soul&lt;br /&gt;And feelin' my world start to turn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll taste every moment&lt;br /&gt;and live it out loud I know this is the time,&lt;br /&gt;This is the timeTo be more than a name&lt;br /&gt;Or a face in the crowd I know this is the time&lt;br /&gt;This is the time of my life&lt;br /&gt;Time of my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holding onto things that vanished Into the air&lt;br /&gt;Left me in pieces&lt;br /&gt;But now I'm rising from the ashes&lt;br /&gt;Finding my wings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all that I needed&lt;br /&gt;Was there all along&lt;br /&gt;Within my reach&lt;br /&gt;As close as the beat of my heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'll taste every moment And live it out loud&lt;br /&gt;I know this is the time,This is the time to be&lt;br /&gt;More than a nameOr a face in the crowd&lt;br /&gt;I know this is the time&lt;br /&gt;This is the time of my life&lt;br /&gt;Time of my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm out on the edge of forever&lt;br /&gt;Ready to run I'm keeping my feet on the ground&lt;br /&gt;My arms open wide&lt;br /&gt;My face to the sun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll taste every moment&lt;br /&gt;And live it out loud I know this is the time,&lt;br /&gt;This is the time to be more than a name&lt;br /&gt;Or a face in the crowd&lt;br /&gt;I know this is the time&lt;br /&gt;This is the time of my life&lt;br /&gt;Time of my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than a name&lt;br /&gt;Or a face in the crowd&lt;br /&gt;I know this is the time&lt;br /&gt;This is the time of my life.&lt;br /&gt;This is the time of my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-3696234321403085529?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/3696234321403085529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=3696234321403085529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3696234321403085529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3696234321403085529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/time-of-our-lives.html' title='time of our lives'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-8762110463887361544</id><published>2008-05-22T16:24:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T22:15:51.178+08:00</updated><title type='text'>hmm....</title><content type='html'>I've been thinking. I can play around with words all I want. I could make great writings, I mean the stuff that will be remembered years from now. &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I can imagine can't I?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But whatever I write, there's always going to be that drop of emotion, that sliver of feeling that I'm not going to be able to transfer into them. Whether its happy, depressing or downright heartbreaking...I'm not that good to be able to express everything. So this post is for that drop of emotion that I haven't been able to express. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A drop of my soul that I can't write&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its always within me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It keeps me sane when times aren't bright&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thats how it's always been.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A spoken word for the unwritten&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A heartbeat for the still&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The life you want that comes unbidden&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and from your spine, a chill.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A shard of my life left intact&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A morsel of my spirit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kept safe from pain and hurtful facts&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It whithstands the roughest grit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-8762110463887361544?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8762110463887361544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=8762110463887361544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8762110463887361544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8762110463887361544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/hmm.html' title='hmm....'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-8112350282233549144</id><published>2008-05-21T21:07:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T22:20:56.148+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Its not the quality of the written word, but the qualities of the person who wrote the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I finally figured that part out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone has their own flaws, but its these flaws that makes everyone perfect in their own little way. You see, the way I see it, everyone is like one piece of an incredibly large jigsaw puzzle. we're just one part of a beautiful picture. And there's always that one piece that fits perfectly, right beside it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flying high on an eagle's wings&lt;br /&gt;I feel it come my way&lt;br /&gt;A feeling not felt even by kings&lt;br /&gt;A life has formed this day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;br /&gt;PS. I'm concerned for you. hope you're ok. If not, hope you're coping well with it. So much more I wanna say, but nothing more I can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-8112350282233549144?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8112350282233549144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=8112350282233549144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8112350282233549144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8112350282233549144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-not-quality-of-written-word-but.html' title=''/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-9163609965224073230</id><published>2008-05-20T22:19:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T22:23:11.309+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chronicled and archived May 20th 2008</title><content type='html'>A new dawn, a new day rises. As the first ray of sun hits the sea, you can watch it glitter like so many diamonds are hidden in them. the light, warm but not yet harsh, washes over the landscape. It bathes the entire region in light. It creates crevices of darkness, shadows where there was complete blackness only minutes before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a candle. We shine best in the dark, when all other lights have gone out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-9163609965224073230?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/9163609965224073230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=9163609965224073230' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/9163609965224073230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/9163609965224073230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/chronicled-and-archived-may-20th-2008.html' title='Chronicled and archived May 20th 2008'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-5979821132423553761</id><published>2008-05-17T11:02:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T12:05:50.685+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Its official, I'm losing my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I broke down last night. With everything that happened recently, I broke down. I felt like shit today. Both physically and emotionally, though the physically part only started today. Everyone said I looked like crap, but I was still smiling. Well I felt like crap as well. You know, if anyone asked me in person if I was ok, I'd always say yes, even if it was a downright lie.  Well last night, everything came full circle. I buckled under the weight/pressure/emotions. It seems like everything is trying to wreak havoc on me. I need to hold out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was the first nite in over a week that I've actually slept more than 4 hours, and that's only because I was sick. Had no dreams during that sleep (thank god).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was fun(ny) after ccn (by the way we made a profit of $6.50 -_-') went with kevon and liwei to go and meet jiayu yenling and siew yin at library where we waited for yanling huda and ina to come. already felt sick then, but still had fun, still laughed alot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Losing myself inside&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I'm not ok right now. My head hurts, and whats going on in my head hurts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Breaking Down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, maybe its because I havn't been sleeping lately that I fell sick, maybe I've been stressing myself out too much. But maybe I'd be lying if i said that that was all there is to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still smile. As much as I can. But truthfully, I have no idea how much longer I can smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;STAY STRONG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully I can do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-5979821132423553761?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/5979821132423553761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=5979821132423553761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5979821132423553761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5979821132423553761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-official-im-losing-my-mind.html' title=''/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-3205153081276288828</id><published>2008-05-14T22:39:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T18:06:59.767+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tears of an Angel</title><content type='html'>In  the corner of a plain white room she crouches&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tears streaming from her eyes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her clothes are tattered and torn like so many pouches&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her broken wings cant fly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was a time, when she still flew, when all was well&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her wings drew strength from her heart&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She watched over those who needed her care&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In caring, she played her part&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then one fateful day, with clouds gray in the sky&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was gray because she was hurt&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She tried to shake it off, pretend she was alright&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But her tears started staining her shirt&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From the sky she then fell, lower and lower&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Till finally she crashed to the ground&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With two wounded wings she still tried to hover&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But the strength from her heart was not found&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So she hid in the white room, away from all sight&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;just tending her broken wings&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;on her bed she'd lost hope, she nearly gave up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But hope is a funny thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She saw a shadow, standing over her form. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She looked up with eyes so red&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She stared into eyes, eyes warm like the sun&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He lifted her up from her bed&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In his arms she lay, her heart began to glow&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Into his shirt she cried&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After a time, the tears ceased to flow&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and again she felt she could fly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He spent the night there, cradling her&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Making sure she was alright&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next morning, he was gone, but she found a feather&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It wasn't hers, and it made her feel light.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Again she now flies, the lone feather in hand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now and again she remembers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The stranger, he's there, watching from below&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With two wings he still likes to walk&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-3205153081276288828?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/3205153081276288828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=3205153081276288828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3205153081276288828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/3205153081276288828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/tears-of-angel.html' title='Tears of an Angel'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-8469792398587859492</id><published>2008-05-13T20:37:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T07:23:18.463+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Confession</title><content type='html'>Shit....I realli don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. The last few days went buy in a blur. I hope I'm not going crazy....then again, I hope so. Things would be so much simpler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tried to sleep again last night, got a couple of hours worth till I couldn't take it anymore. So I got up and reread I am the Messenger till first light. At least I'm still trying to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I...hope, for want of a better word, that I know what I'm doing, that I can trust myself. Because if things go wrong, if I mess up at anything, God help me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said I wouldn't, but I have to&lt;br /&gt;I know I Shouldn't, but I want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you blame me for that? Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to cope. I'm still trying, the effort is there. but I'm not sure if the results are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Somebody show me a sign please....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Is this worth it? Yea, I feel that way. Its worth every every minute of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-8469792398587859492?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8469792398587859492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=8469792398587859492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8469792398587859492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8469792398587859492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/confession.html' title='Confession'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-6301410095113417420</id><published>2008-05-12T07:18:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T07:24:17.943+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleepless in Singapore</title><content type='html'>Great, another night with no sleep, and not because I want to stay up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been like this since friday, come to think of it, and its driving me off the edge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its hard enough with the workload we have in school. But now I have to go through with it like an insomniac&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well this so rocks.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-6301410095113417420?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/6301410095113417420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=6301410095113417420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6301410095113417420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6301410095113417420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/sleepless-in-singapore.html' title='Sleepless in Singapore'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-9198242896337526180</id><published>2008-05-11T22:07:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T22:21:09.575+08:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>Going in blind. I hate going in blind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-9198242896337526180?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/9198242896337526180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=9198242896337526180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/9198242896337526180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/9198242896337526180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-4210528513089685597</id><published>2008-05-09T22:09:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T22:39:30.251+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Glimpse....</title><content type='html'>Since we're on the subject of my past, now would also be a good time to tell you about another aspect of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will be a shorter post than last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always there for other people, even though those people can't always be there for me. There's a reason for this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ex, back when we were still together. was always there for me. In thailand, workload was alot easier, so I was able to put in alot of effort into our relationship. As time went on though, the workload increased, and I found that at times, I wasnt always there for her, but I could always rely on her to be there for me when I needed the support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over time, I started slipping, and still she was there for me. She said it was ok, that she knew what I was going through, and that she was alright with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing was, I was the one who wasn't alright with it. After seeing her put that much effort into keeping our relationship alive, and seeing how much effort I put in, I couldn't bear it. It wasn't alright for me that she was the only one who was doing as much as she could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a year, we ended our relationship. Not because we couldn't stand the sight of each other, but because I wasnt comfortable with me just doing that much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day we broke up, she said to me: "I'll always be to lend an ear, I'll always be there for you, even though you're not always there for me"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till today, we still talk alot. She's become something like a big sister (figuratively speaking, as she was only 1.52m tall) to me, and her last words she said to me have become sort of my de facto motto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When all has gone dark, and the moon is gone&lt;br /&gt;I'll be the lone candle, thats lit and found&lt;br /&gt;Though the path may be gone, and the fear creeps in&lt;br /&gt;I'll be right there, to guide you like your kin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still there for you, even if you're not&lt;br /&gt;Its all I can do, its all that I've got&lt;br /&gt;Just remember, when your fire's drowned out&lt;br /&gt;My fire's there, helping without a sound&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Whether in the fields or behind closed doors&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Whatever happens, my heart will beat with yours - Anonymous&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-4210528513089685597?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/4210528513089685597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=4210528513089685597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/4210528513089685597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/4210528513089685597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/another-glimpse.html' title='Another Glimpse....'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-880352003972147062</id><published>2008-05-07T07:25:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T07:28:06.654+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Penny for my thoughts</title><content type='html'>I'll admit, I'm a little bit confused. I don't know what I stand for anymore. I'm not even sure of what I want to stand for. The feeling kinda sucks, but at least I'm still smiling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone once told me "smiles are happy things :) smile more". And I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These past 3 weeks or so felt more like 3 months if you ask me. It's been a rollercoaster both physically and emotionally for me. But hey, c'est la vie lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-880352003972147062?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/880352003972147062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=880352003972147062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/880352003972147062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/880352003972147062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/penny-for-my-thoughts.html' title='Penny for my thoughts'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-5152306062527293132</id><published>2008-05-06T20:15:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T20:16:33.094+08:00</updated><title type='text'>c:/command_execute</title><content type='html'>Post deleted on 6th May 2008, 8:15 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-5152306062527293132?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/5152306062527293132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=5152306062527293132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5152306062527293132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/5152306062527293132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/ccommandexecute.html' title='c:/command_execute'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-406312241683010007</id><published>2008-05-05T19:38:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T20:40:08.188+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How to live a life</title><content type='html'>What's a life? how do you live it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is a life single, or plural? I tell you now....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A life is just a heartbeat, the steady rhythm of a system operating&lt;br /&gt;But how you live it...that is entirely different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How to live a life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A life aint just single. a life is plural&lt;br /&gt;You don't own it, but others help you create it.&lt;br /&gt;You may think that you are alive because of life&lt;br /&gt;But life, it seems, has its own heartbeat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be good to it, and it will reward you.&lt;br /&gt;And yet abuse it, and it is still willing to forgive&lt;br /&gt;In often used words, you reap what you sow&lt;br /&gt;It's life's mechanics. Thats how it goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To live a life, you must live not just for yourself&lt;br /&gt;If everyone did, then this world will not connect&lt;br /&gt;But if all of us, forgot about "self"&lt;br /&gt;Strife would end then and there, I'm willing to bet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to live life, one must love life, and love those in it.&lt;br /&gt;life is love, and love is life. its never too late to start&lt;br /&gt;a man who stands alone may live, but he is not alive.&lt;br /&gt;for life when in love, gives hope to those not alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love me, heal me, never leave me&lt;br /&gt;hold me, hug me, watch over me&lt;br /&gt;keep me, help me, pray for me&lt;br /&gt;hurt me, scold me, then forgive me&lt;br /&gt;raise me, know me, feel for me&lt;br /&gt;feed me, show me, lie with me&lt;br /&gt;love me, heal me, stay with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just felt in the writing mood :-)&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-406312241683010007?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/406312241683010007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=406312241683010007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/406312241683010007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/406312241683010007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/how-to-live-life.html' title='How to live a life'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-6249999613191629476</id><published>2008-05-04T11:32:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T09:03:38.058+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Plaza Sing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SB01JXUJ9JI/AAAAAAAAAAw/QkOMvoWFbEQ/s1600-h/CIMG3789.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196367980049069202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SB01JXUJ9JI/AAAAAAAAAAw/QkOMvoWFbEQ/s320/CIMG3789.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, so we basically started off the day at Paya Lebar MRT. I was early by about 20 minutes (as usual), then Kevon came, then Li wei, Siew Yin. then we went to go and buy doughnuts from this place called Munchy Doughnuts, which I could have gone straight to from my house with number 10 (thx liwei), and saved some time lol. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We bought 12 doughnuts, ate 4. they were actually quite good. Then we went back to Paya Lebar to meet Huda, then took the train to Dhoby Ghaut. We waited there for a loooooong time, for Yen Ling and Karhong to arrive, which, technically they never did. oh well. we just sat near the wall and basically laughed our heads off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196362194728121442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SB0v4nUJ9GI/AAAAAAAAAAY/PGyKJCfs5WM/s320/CIMG3778.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Yea, so there's me laughing my head off at something I cant remember. I think Huda took that pic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196364625679610994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SB0yGHUJ9HI/AAAAAAAAAAg/KzRdIWYOYnc/s320/CIMG3788.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, here's the story behind this chimp like photo lol. Huda had a can of instant streamers, which she sprayed at kevon's hair, forgetting he had hair wax on. so she helped to pick out all the tiny pieces out of his hair. We were all laughing and taking so many picture of this lol. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196365914169799810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SB0zRHUJ9II/AAAAAAAAAAo/tK--G3Sny7Q/s320/CIMG3787.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Ok, this was Yan ling's birthday baguette. since we thought a cake was too boring. notice some of the stands of the candles are different. Those are re-lighting candles. gave Yan ling a hell of a time trying to blow them out lol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;for now, thats all i can bother to upload. more to come soon :P until then, another poem to finish this post.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mistake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm walking along the beach &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You were walking right beside me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I leave footprints in the sand &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Your footprints were next to me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Now I just stand in the sea &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;the water coming up in waves &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You're no longer right beside me &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;You don't care what I gave &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We used to stroll along the street &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Things would catch our eye &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;We used to stop here and there &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Why did I make you mine? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Now the streets are empty &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;As empty as the grey sky &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;papers blow down the road &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They're pictures of you and I &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Why didn’t I make you mine?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cheers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Healing Poet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-6249999613191629476?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/6249999613191629476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=6249999613191629476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6249999613191629476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/6249999613191629476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/plaza-sing.html' title='Plaza Sing'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T59goVDSxN0/SB01JXUJ9JI/AAAAAAAAAAw/QkOMvoWFbEQ/s72-c/CIMG3789.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1564442351487251239.post-8758554011530599003</id><published>2008-05-03T09:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T09:59:50.315+08:00</updated><title type='text'>1st post ever</title><content type='html'>Ok, first post on a new blog. First chapter in a new part of life....TP!!!!!! lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old blog died...literally. i couldnt find anything to say on the last one. its almost as if it was a different me. well now things are different, though some part of me wishes things were the same. it was alot simpler back then. But it's still early. Who knows?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Accion outing is later today. Going for dinner with them. Celebrating Yan Ling's bday with the others first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st post, means 1st poem has to go on! Yay lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. the title for this poem was originally meant to be "Angel in Blue Jeans", but thats actually a Maroon 5 song. so i changed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;With an angel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has wings, she walks barefeet&lt;br /&gt;She’s just in some plain blue jeans&lt;br /&gt;When she smiles, the world is calm&lt;br /&gt;And so am I when her hand’s on my palm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun has set, the moon has risen&lt;br /&gt;The stars in her eyes, just like the river&lt;br /&gt;Her head’s on my chest, wings folded gently&lt;br /&gt;Lying on the cool evening grass, against the trunk of a tree&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She can take me soaring, over the great city lights&lt;br /&gt;I’m in her arms, she’s holding me tight&lt;br /&gt;Her wings make no sound, the wind waves her hair&lt;br /&gt;For while I fly with her, I’m in her care&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now she lies down, her head on my chest&lt;br /&gt;I play with her hair, it’s a well deserved rest&lt;br /&gt;I wrap my arms round her, and into me she curls&lt;br /&gt;It’s my turn to care, my turn to be the angel.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Healing Poet&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1564442351487251239-8758554011530599003?l=zachronicles.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/feeds/8758554011530599003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1564442351487251239&amp;postID=8758554011530599003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8758554011530599003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1564442351487251239/posts/default/8758554011530599003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zachronicles.blogspot.com/2008/05/1st-post-ever.html' title='1st post ever'/><author><name>T04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14809568086859992330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
