Word Drift

It's around 1:00pm, where my body supposed to think that it is 1:00am.

The supposed to be quiet sleep were surrounded by Miles's trumpet. How I wish I can play such music, but all I could do is just listen. Listen as I was supposed to be sleeping. It's been an hour when I bid goodnight, but still, here I am, listening, writing, inventing. Inventing ideas, like this one. One that's supposed to be a masterpiece, but could be just gibberish when I woke up and back to sanity. How insane it is to instantly move to next chapter in an instant.

There is a saying that every person has a chapter in life that we wish to omit and wants to remain unpublished, or something like that. Whatever our mistake from the past, how much we want to say sorry or wants to change it, a past was supposed to be a history. A history that supposed to review and learn from it. Not thinking of what if's, but just think of a way not to rewrite history. I wonder how Miles wrote his songs. I wanna know what's the story of each title. Now I wonder what title should I go with this masterpiece, or like I said, a garbage the next day.

Next hour came by... time to go to sleep as Miles's music drifts into my dreams... thus the title should be and how it should end. 

Arhito

7/31/2014