Dear Love,
Slide your arm through mine like a crochet and make an interlocking loop of affection. Tilt your head on my shoulder. Let’s stroll through the snow-white meadow, a computing screen – interrupted with tiny black marks. If you analyze, there are more empty spaces as if silence and unspoken emotions convey more than I can construct by drawing or using alphabets and words! It is an aimless walk, and nothing may seem adequate, except for our breathing and heartbeat. We could feel the sentiments with eyes closed! I hope!
Perhaps my dictions are “Kipuka” – islands within a sea of lava flows, covered with soil and plants. A contrast but gorgeous visual variance and habitat for many creatures nonetheless. Flaming lava had a second thought to grant life to an otherwise sterile environment. Like my psyche, burnings from many regrets about love created a series of fissures from searing lava-like grief. My befogged attempts were to anchor in waiting, yes in waiting and making “Kipuka” for my limping spiritless heart. I dismissed every quest, the means to relieve my cranium full of maudlin assumptions. See them in light without angst in exchange for a pretend waiting of fantasy to show up in a tangible format. They could not have; I failed to even start, set, be at peace with my search for love, for the truth! I may articulate what that aporia “seeking or searching” means, but unsure if it matters anymore in the new year! Time changes what was, what furrow we draw for the future.
Only yesterday, it was last year. Now I am looking at four seasons long sun, winds, and change of colors. Pondering that rowing propels a boat with oars and always presents a clear view of the harbor where the vessel had been. To keep it moving in a straight line is an unparalleled skill. The same applies to my life – not straying from what I set out to do is no small feat, not at all! However, I am more bewildered that the rowers – like us – sail through waters looking at the past. A fixed but not a clear view of where it had been then of the future it is heading! But my memories are misty from last year and many years before. I blanketed my mind with strewn of superimposed sentimental perceptions and the expanse of time— to build a collection of silhouettes of events that might be true but without a plight. Unable now to gather a substantial number of souvenirs to validate and soothe my doubts about where I had been. Everything seems slipped away from my corner of the world! A result of not wanting my illusions destroyed. Living in that captivity felt intimate – a useful delusion that served better than a useless fact: time wrapped around the space I held, or the moment now, must dissolve. For only the brave make peace with the truth before there isn’t another page in life to flip – I read. This wisdom is tucked in the brain’s creases and had not sipped into “Mon Amar” (my heart). It may! Only a possibility, but best of hope to start this special day!