The tree of time, has all its branches intact. We sever moments from a branch of time, call them memories, for the tree its just a leaf of moment, we classify it.
Often, we live out thinking that time would heal the pain that is at times deep-seated in our hearts. Time, has carving on its trunk, for all that we have done in our lives, and what we shall do are carving's yet to come. Each and every sad embarking, is a scar, on the face of time, but we say, time would heal it.
Ever thought, how heavy heart of this tree would be with sad memories, unfulfilled passions, desires which could not mitigate. Between sun and earth, exists this tree of time, with few green branches filled with life, love and a few dried up, with broken leaves. Loneliness is a pigeon which sits on the later, often takes a flight deep into my heart from one such dry branch everyday.
I write, so that I give a place on paper to this loneliness in my heart, it makes me feel lighter. I have my share of green branches as well, but they are drying up everyday. Pigeon of loneliness, finds new branch to hang on each day, its flight is in unison with the frequency of the universal silence.
It continues to bring me the dried leaves from a new branch each day.
Dried leaves.
Samar.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Catastrophe !
Silence wrapped in words, conveys an expression truly hard to understand. Ever felt that impulse of words, coming in the mind to break the silence, yet, silence wins the battle, those words die down, very much when they are concieved.
The victory of silence, like darkness in my life is predominant. I am used to losing to it. They say unconditional love, often sprouts from true friendship. They say, Trust takes birth in hearts of two people simultaneously. They say, in true love, desires are uncompetitive.
My love sprouted from our friendship, sailed across with trust, and desires where more collaborative, everything was perfect. My long awakened nights, often keep me thinking, if everything was so perfect, why did it crash.
Reema, there is no formula, for love, no good recipe for affection, they are naturally precise, raw and balanced. I didn't carry fake emotions, all that I had for you was true, precise and natural. You left me with memories, of those nights on stairs under the stars, warmth of that half cup coffee on my fingers, your words, that feeling in your eyes. I feel incomplete with these dead memories.
The catastrophe that happened, has taken the most important part of my existence. In times to come, I would carry these unanswered questions, few of which I give to you, few which I keep safe in my heart.
Samar !
The victory of silence, like darkness in my life is predominant. I am used to losing to it. They say unconditional love, often sprouts from true friendship. They say, Trust takes birth in hearts of two people simultaneously. They say, in true love, desires are uncompetitive.
My love sprouted from our friendship, sailed across with trust, and desires where more collaborative, everything was perfect. My long awakened nights, often keep me thinking, if everything was so perfect, why did it crash.
Reema, there is no formula, for love, no good recipe for affection, they are naturally precise, raw and balanced. I didn't carry fake emotions, all that I had for you was true, precise and natural. You left me with memories, of those nights on stairs under the stars, warmth of that half cup coffee on my fingers, your words, that feeling in your eyes. I feel incomplete with these dead memories.
The catastrophe that happened, has taken the most important part of my existence. In times to come, I would carry these unanswered questions, few of which I give to you, few which I keep safe in my heart.
Samar !
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