Well my friends call me a mind-boggler and aptly so.
When life brings you to crossroads and the outside world shakes your identity, you’ve got to stick to the bare minimum and survive.
So did I.
I had to shed all that was extravagant and handpick the bare minimum for myself. It was then that I decided to start a journey to seek the elements which form me, and perhaps later acquire a more profound realisation of self.
This is the beginning of my journey.
A lost friend.
Like a child recklessly losing the cool shade of a plum tree on a warm sunny day; from its safe cradle to taking the outlandish sun face to face.
But isn’t that life? A constant flux of shadows and sunshine.
This is just a humble effort to nurture similar shade for the sunshines that tomorrow might unfold.
Fall and early mornings have one thing in common, things are purest, in their most raw form during this time. And what is more beautiful than seeing someone and something naked; layered in nothing but their skin?
There are two expressions of love, she said. Either you lock the flower in seclusion, that way you get to worship its beauty and sink in its love everyday whole day, or you watch it grow away from you, in its roots, in its entirety. You bear the anxiety of separation and jubilance of union each day anew, and watch it grow petal by petal eventually fading into a vacant stem.
The problem is, my friend, most people are only familiar with the former.
They bid farewell to one another, sidehugs and kissess. A hot summer day. An overwhelming afternoon.
Until again. They all promised. And parted.
They were both in love, or so they thought. He, always a little more than her. She, always falling short. They both stood, ready to part.
What is it about life that can’t let you stay? Can’t let you squeeze and hold tight, while the whole world goes about its business. It doesn’t really matter if you don’t want to play, life’s intervention will budge in like an unplanned middle child. Exhilarating and appalling, and one that has to stay. Are we really living a life, or are we an experimental group for someone observing the act of life?
He held her close. She closed her eyes, and took a deep long breath. Somehow she wanted this moment to be stretched however long was permitted. He kissed her on forehead, Until again, he whispered. And deep down she knew, it was a promise they won’t be able to keep.
My heart is overwhelmed by the turn of events. I was walking through the desert, one that took me in. I liked how the grains felt beneath my feet. I liked how the sand could stir up a storm. I liked how I could hide in an endless sight. And when I was walking, the desert blinded me through a gleam of blue crystals. But this was no oasis. A mirage, mocking me.
I walked through the gardens, I walked through the forests. I walked through the oceans, I walked through the desert. I asked for nothing, but they kept teasing me.
I looked for peace, and silence and shade. I looked for a cradle to hide, and sleep.
A lot of things. My heart, your will, man’s ego in a universe that is larger than him, earth’s gravity compulsively holding things together, the idea of being present in a moment, the need of a body for a soul, and this stone; this most of all.
You looked at me. I was staring at the shadows on the long, dark walls. They were kind of intimidating, we both agreed. It felt like we’ve gotten ourselves into something we don’t understand. This was an uncomfortable realisation. We both felt a strange, incomprehensible reason to be. It felt pleasant, and trapped at the same time. So we had to get out of it, and reminisce later. It felt like a joy in sorrow, we carried it as gloom in joy.
We had walked down these arches many times since then.
And I’m not sure which ones are memory, and which ones are dream.
Do you still remember the shirlls from past? Do you remember the sensation of being choked? If you do and you still are, ha! I should commend your resolution.
There is something about the water that doesn’t scare me anymore. What would you rob off of dirt? Maybe I have fulfilled my wildest fantasies. Maybe I’m the wind that knows no home. How would you enslave the air? I could escape through the cracks and suffocate you to silence.
The sea was quiet. The air was still. Nobody wanted to take anything off her now.