Rain

BY EDWARD THOMAS

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain

On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me

Remembering again that I shall die

And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks

For washing me cleaner than I have been

Since I was born into solitude.

Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:

But here I pray that none whom once I loved

Is dying tonight or lying still awake

Solitary, listening to the rain,

Either in pain or thus in sympathy

Helpless among the living and the dead,

Like a cold water among broken reeds,

Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,

Like me who have no love which this wild rain

Has not dissolved except the love of death,

If love it be towards what is perfect and

Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.

To Uncle JS

To Uncle JS,

It is difficult to put together any words, your sudden departure is a shocking one.

I suppose it is uncommon in the Asian context to describe our familial ties as a friendship, and personally I do not readily describe relationships as friendships, but I want to use that word – it seems quite apt here.

Our friendship was a simple one – a reliable one, that even though we met mostly during family gatherings, each time we meet is always an enjoyable one.

Aunt M and you were always the life of our family gatherings, jovial, exuberant, merry.

I remember the Christmases, CNYs, Birthdays, and the casual lunches and dinners that we shared together. It was always a joy chatting with you, about the stories of your travels, your hobbies, new technologies, and the simple joys of life. Chatting with you always reminded me of the joys of life, and the joys of experiencing life with your loved ones.

There was this one winter that you hosted my family and I at your place in Shanghai, in 2004. Though you were busy, though you had other priorities, Aunt M and you still warmly welcomed us, showed us around, shared your new home – this strange-surreal city – with us. I still remember the now-on-hindsight outlandish animal-print baroque sofa, the hazy city view out of your window at Shi-mao-bin-jiang-hua-yuan, the insanely large decorative bowl of chillies at the Xintiandi restaurant you brought us to one evening, even the simple instant noodle dinner we had one night together, albeit with hairy crabs. All of it was such an eye-opener for me, and I dare say that the time in Shanghai at your place was possibly one of the experiences that shaped my deep passion for architecture today.

I remember the texts and emails that, in the recent years, you would send me. Every now and then, of the beautiful buildings that you had encountered, and asking me to check them out. Thank you for all of those, for remembering me, and caring enough to share these with me.

I realise that many of these memories involve celebrations or feasting in some way, or seemingly pedestrian conversations about our interests, but then again, I think that is a beautiful image to remember.

You lived a full life, one rich in experiences and joy, my Mom shared that with me today. You certainly did, and I am grateful that you shared some of it with me.

To Uncle JS, it is a shame that we don’t have more years of friendship ahead, but I am thankful for those that you have given me.

Goodbye, Uncle JS, you will be missed.

The Setting Sun

180414, Changi

 

Dusk came, the warm ambers of daylight dying into ashes. Soon, it would be night, soon the present will become past, possibilities actualised and archived. Stowed away, but cherished.

 

Tokyo Reverse

What an interesting concept!

Strange Fruit

Untitled

Who am I?

What am I doing?

Why am I doing this?

How do I carry on?

How will I persist?

When will it cease?

What then should I do?

Adieu for Now

Without any choice, or desire, I must bid this blog adieu for the time being, as with my civilian life. I’ll be enlisting into the army tomorrow, at 11.45am, and what lies ahead remains a blur to me. I most certainly hope that things will be fine, and I do trust the Lord to ensure that, but it is only human to have doubts and fears.

Be Near Me

 

Be near me when my light is low,
When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick
And tingle; and the heart is sick,
And all the wheels of Being slow.
Be near me when the sensuous frame
Is rack’d with pangs that conquer trust;
And Time, a maniac scattering dust,
And Life, a Fury slinging flame.

Be near me when my faith is dry,
And men the flies of latter spring,
That lay their eggs, and sting and sing
And weave their petty cells and die.
Be near me when I fade away,

To point the term of human strife,
And on the low dark verge of life
The twilight of eternal day.

Lord Alfred Tennyson

I had a chat with a friend a few days ago. “Neglected” was what she was feeling – they say that loneliness is the most painful of human emotions. I suppose the pain of being absent works two ways – for both the absent and the one left there to pick up the mess. Its even sadder when both parties have abandoned hope. Yet we do it. Yet life works that way for us – we simply leave when its too much, or too little. We give up.

 

And for that I’m sorry.

Untitled

Lost in time and space.

Away.