One of those
nights when the urge to write has dragged me out of bed, and here I’ve come,
bringing along with me tangled loops of very limited words. And a cup of tea.
I have a blank
space before my eyes and a keyboard beneath my fingers, and I am struggling,
believe me I really am, to assemble my over flowing, vague, ambiguous thoughts
properly in a manner for you to understand. I really wish to fill this empty
space with well organized words like baskets filled with berries... Or glasses
filled with wine… Or the air filled with sweet fragrances of young
flowers... There’s so much I wish to say, so much I can't.
And as I sit here,
intently following with my gaze the frenzied wisp of smoke rising from the hot
tea and noticing its gradual disappearance in the stillness of the night,
contemplating on where to begin from, my eyes have encountered the silver light
streaming straight through the window, falling at the maroon floor.
The moon. It is
the moon, and it is painfully beautiful tonight. Compelling me to quit on this
struggle and carelessly sit at the cold marble floor, under the silver light. I
sit near the window pane, gazing through the vast sapphire sky, witnessing the
shimmery drama of the zillion stars and staring at the moon. A broken verse bearing
a strong association suddenly echoes at the back of my head, a warm smile of
special someone comes alive, and I continue staring the moon in my search of
finding more images…
It is amazing to
just sit back and observe how the tiny twinkling stars communicate. They seem
small and weightless, but their soft violet radiance bears a sensation that is
priceless! Perhaps this is how I had always classified certain joys of life.
Small, but priceless. I don’t know what it is about absorbing the soft silver
light to the bones, it just endows the magic that I need to enter the stupor of
ecstasy where despite the unsettling gloom; I suddenly fall in love with
everything around me.
In the air stirred the mist of permanganate purple, deep cobalt and pale silver –colors of my aura, as Aziz would put it – just
about the right combination of magic dust that was needed to renew the day’s lost
smile and almost diminished hope.
So. I decide to
bend down, and carefully gather the small fallen pieces and set about binding
them back together to that one whole. Because that ‘one whole’ is definitely
worth it.
