hello summer.

hello summer.

I’m glad to see that you’re doing okay.

it’s been a long, cold winter without you.

I missed your warmth, your light and how

I would feel so comfortable with you here.

I’m never the same when you’re gone.

the winter drains me of my vitality and

clouds my mind with dark, gloomy clouds.

I live for your blue skies and sunshine and

the gentle breezes that make it so clear

that nothing gold can stay forever young.

I wish you could stay here forever but I know

that even if I try my best, you won’t stay with me.

they say that if you love something to set it free…

…and I will always love you.



Do you believe in farewells?

In goodbyes that don’t last a lifetime,

In “so longs” and “see you arounds”,

Do you believe that it won’t be forever?

How much faith does it take to believe it?

To me it seems that we are all wires

Criss-crossing endlessly but eventually

It all straightens out where we meet our end.

So say goodbye, and say farewell

But don’t assume that it won’t be

The last time that our wires cross.

dark moon

underneath the yellow moon

do you think of me? I think of you

I’m haunted by you, broken too

how long before it’s not too soon?

too soon to say that I feel lost

like every night, I’m lost in thoughts

of you and all the sleep you’ve cost

results of all your hidden plots

I used to think the sun shone through you

but now I see that you’re the moon

reflecting light from others but

your dark side shines when eyes are shut

sun shafts over suburbia

sun shafts over suburbia

paint the parking lots in gold

bringing life to concrete, otherwise

like barren wastelands with yellow stripes

illuminate our lives, we plead

let knowledge of our lives rain down

like shattered glass in fragments, please

quench our thirst for clarity, and may we

find out why we are here and why

we have been blessed with the sun and the sky

Summer Evenings

Troublesome thoughts, be gone!

While I am here, there is no time to spend

Contemplating all of these things that have

Kept me up so many restless nights.

I’m pleasantly lost in the wholehearted majesty

Of these summer evenings, these watercolour paintings

With skies that light up like fire in a glass bottle.

Their technicolour eulogies, vibrant and commanding,

Ease my mind for once in my life and it’s clear

That my blurry eyes find comfort in the night.

Elegant Distraction

The most elegant distraction

Like the foamy white surf that

Precipitates when a wave breaks.

As inconspicuous as a solar eclipse

Leaving glowing hot embers in my eyes.

Forgive me if I stare too long, my love.

I still just can’t quite comprehend how

Nature could create something that

Can so eloquently depict images of

Steep waterfalls and cherry blossoms

With mood ring eyes and gentle laughter.


I found you.

Buried in the smell of rain on the city streets

In all of these songs I used to listen to,

I found you, still gripping my heart with your eyes.

Those eyes were my oceans, my horizon of the infinite

I saw them in the bright green signs, lining the tunnels.

There’s a bittersweet nostalgia on these metro lines,

They used to connect us like telephone wires.

How dare you show up here, where I least expect it.

Even after all of this time, all of this heart ache,

I feel your fingertips, tracing lines across my back

And it’s bittersweet, like black coffee behind my teeth.

Old Book

Our love is a book bound in faded red leather
With dog-eared pages, our favourite parts
And bold-faced type that bleeds through
The emaciated pages, its seductive black ink
Retelling the story of how Jack met Sally
And how two broken pieces fit perfectly.
A fairy tale love, its happily ever after
Being written in the present tense despite
The fact that neither the prince nor the princess
Ever believed in a life after ever after.
A love that smells like musty brown paper
A wine that grows complex with age
Yet simpler to savour as the tip of your tongue
Tingles just thinking of its gentlest kiss.
Ah yes, our love is a weathered old book
Cherished by those who have leafed through
The yellowing pages and know that the end
Is merely a chapter that hasn’t been read.

Dorchester Square

Seated on a park bench in Dorchester Square, I’m observing everything around me. The trees, fully dressed and swaying in the wind to a tune we cannot hear, cast tapering shadows across the thick green grass. Squirrels scurry across the park, chasing each other’s tails and searching for nuts ahead of the impending fall. Business men in suits meander past, smoking and laughing while talking about sports and the economy. I’m watching all of this, soaking it in like the midsummer sun at high noon, and I have a sudden, violent collision with the concept of time.

This city block is a time paradox, I think to myself.

The bench I’m sitting in faces the Sun Life Building, an imposing marble business centre that looms over the park like a hundred-year-old school teacher. Beyond that is a cathedral, possibly as old as the city itself, that sleeps modestly nestled between two shopping malls. Then- directly across the street- is the 1000 building, the tallest skyscraper in the city. An overbearing testament to our present, overshadowing the worn-out relic from our past.

As I look around, casting my eye over the fast food restaurants and strip clubs that are sprinkled magnanimously and haphazardly throughout the city, I come to grips with the fact that we are not a permanent fixture in this world. We build churches and monuments to give ourselves some semblance of validation for our existence, but all we’ve really done on this Earth is stack some rocks together in hopes of pleasing some external forces. The law of entropy states that everything in the universe is bound to dissolve, and that our sticks and stones will eventually fall apart and all we will be left with is the memory of our ephemeral sense of purpose.

I try to picture it: the city falling apart, the Earth reclaiming the land that we had borrowed. I pictured the crumbling marble of the Sun Life Building, its Corinthian columns collapsing under the weight of the building. I imagined the steel and glass of the 1000 building raining down across the city, falling like a felled log into the Saint Lawrence River. And then I saw the old cathedral, covered in moss and ivy but still standing amidst the wreckage. For some reason, I didn’t see it ever coming down.

Maybe because our ancestors thought too much of the afterlife. They were much too concerned with pleasing their god that they spent their whole lives trying to please him, in hopes of receiving their recompense once they’d passed away. Pascal’s wager was a poor judgement call, in my opinion, but that’s easy for me to say. I was never indoctrinated, made to fear the possibility of an eternity of damnation. My parents granted me the freedom to look up at the night sky- to attempt to count the trillions of stars in our galaxy- and decide for myself that this universe could not have been designed like this. It is too enormous- too beautiful- to have been created by anything, regardless of how omnipotent and omniscient it claims to be.

I think that buildings should fall down; not while they’re still in use mind you, but once we are long gone and the world has forgotten about us. I think that our mortality is a blessing, not a curse. It is easy to feel entitled to eternity when you believe that the creator of the universe also designed you, and that between the two you are his proudest achievement. When I contemplate the majesty of the stars on a clear summer night, I feel relieved to know how insignificant I am. When I think about our cities crumbling and turning to dust, it reminds me that my life is only as important as I want it to be. It eases my mind to know that I don’t have to spend my life pleasing God or the universe- the only person whose happiness I need to be concerned with is my own, for as long as I live.

I look up at the sky to catch my breath and notice that the pristine blue sky has but one, solitary cloud rolling pleasantly along its vast expanse. It is unbothered by our presence, it cares not for our problems: it is perfectly contented to just stroll across the sky with no worries in sight, like the businessmen that walk past me on their lunch break. I stare at it for a while, watching how slowly it crawls across the satiny sky, and breathe deeply. How satisfying it is to realize that we are all just clouds, passing through.


gentle light, this gentle night
I cannot keep with all my might
but you are here, to my delight
such an overwhelming sight

your kiss can mend my broken back
and help replace the things I lack
the parts of me I lost, in fact
so hard to place, so damn abstract

but love me with your softest touch
of what is left, I don’t have much
just fragile, worn out parts and such
my hardened hands, they’re in my clutch

I can’t convey the words that say
how much I wish that you might stay
forever here and never stray
so I can love you, every day –

– in every single way, I’ll say,
“you’ve made me feel more whole today.”