Solid and of the sturdiest metal (matter) in the universe anyone can find comprised of the iron bars that stood in solitude among the gates to heaven. Their majestic appearance expresses the sound of trumpet blowing, the cheers and fanfare that accompany this awe-inspiring sight. Bring forth a new society where angels exist and life is eternal. And when the gates swing open swiftly and yet as graceful as a ballerina, you step into a new metropolis of clouds, stunned by the sights around you. And as you swivel around, pivoting upon your tiny feet, you catch a glimpse of corrosion upon the bars, a primary detection of ugly among beauty. The horror stretches and spreads all over your face with contortion as the bars continue to melt like the snow in summer, and there is nothing left to salvage in moments. Have everything you have worked for, the sacrificial life you led, the notable things worthy of recognition you accomplished, the martyred death you suffered, come to naught when your first encounter with heavenly scenes crumble upon coming into contact with mortal eyes…. Life is eternal in heaven, and you shall be weeping every moment of it away into the drain cover that will soon dissipate into nothingness as well…

What a day it has been indeed! I am still cluttered with time-consuming projects that remain sitting ducks among my artillery of technology. There can only be two possibilities now—either I use my weapon arms and begin hardcore warfare by rebelling against the military projects or I point the bloody gun at my head and pull the damn trigger! Either way, it’s going to end up with blood trickling down your body, just as the tears in heaven profusely snake through the drain cover gaps only to realize it had disintegrated.

It was an average day with average subjects but I was glad I could skip a full period of RE attending one of those lectures you get once in a while, which I have yet to attend any but one this year… Mr. Saravanan finally decided to go with the flow and released the leashes holding on to our captivity and freedom and like wild dogs set free, we sprinted as innocent puppies would to the auditorium filled with grim faces and sleeping dogs (who we should let lie?). I managed to escape presentation as well because Samuel and I had to report for emcee rehearsal at 3.15pm sharp but Mr. Han was obviously fashionably late, grumbling at the top of his whines as he strutted through the hall. With blunt and hurtful comments, he critiqued my skeleton for the emcee script and it was heart-dampening to see a midget pwn me upside down.. My hatred for such teachers have grown into a tumor but a malign or benign one, it has yet to show. We had but manage to figure out crucial details for the celebration that should have been ironed out long ago and did some minor adjustments to the script. It wasn’t a very fruitful session per se but the thought of leaving rehearsal just brightened by stormy day, just a tinge of sunlight passing through the window of cumulonimbus. Perhaps, the situation is just too bleak for a weak soul to handle, but my soul thirsts to survive, hand me a challenge and I will take it down!! The same way everything works, even the gates to heaven…

And those tears squeezed dry from the eyes of the disappointed collects at a well below, too deep for the naked eye to locate. And this well recycles the precious teardrops into the beautiful skyline that shower the heaven’s atmosphere, an azure blue canvas for the artist to express his wild ideas. The fluffy clouds get outlined forming mind-blowing scenes that take your eyes away. You forget about the gate that was once there but is now gone. You forget to cry into the well that feeds you the imaginative sky. You sit back and take in the view eternally, until the fuel of tears drop to a new low and it has to be refilled. But this time, you will cry tears of joy willingly to bring back joy, to overcome grief, bless the melancholy of heaven!