What should I write? With a fear that my word will start to tumble at some point of time. Of all the thoughts in my head, thoughts of the every rhymes unheard, every word, every breath and every message that every night I type with a tap of fingers on my half broken keys of my keyboard, in the middle of night, in the middle of nowhere just to pour out something which I don’t know even lies within me. Every words that leaves on last breaths which I write several times until night tires me out to interlace it together to send you somehow remains saved in drafts, because every surge of unfathomable emotion is blended with unknown fear and angst ridden thoughts of “ What If -I write you as you fiddle”.How engulfing some thoughts and some people are. People exist in our life but only few lives. Some people are fortunate enough to live on one page of same book while some lives on the same page of different books. Though later is the case but I’m in a habit of creating an alternate world- where you and your smile replace my solitaire, where I can imagine myself wishing you a simple good night every night perhaps you became like coffee; in the bitterness, the deliciousness and the addiction.
Tonight If I could have send you a good night wishes I could have send you it draped in invisible sheets, woven in fine thread of never ending love; dappled by shade and sunlight beaded with the rare evanescent jewel born from rustling leaves overhead and the breath of summer wind pouring onto you from above, so that you can sleep in natural embrace. “Sleep now, my Darling!” Perhaps one of the reason I love night is that because I love to write your name on the misty window pane and then rub it so that no one can read it in my absence.
But the fact remains the same- just like trillions of tiny specs of dust which exist in space and never form a colossal element which you christen them as celestial body remains the dust, these message and words may never reach its ultimate adobe. And I live trapped in this short infinity of a stolen moment, never to touch, but only ever to keep. Whenever I try to escape outs of these knots that are tied in the pits of my hope, destiny somehow re-invokes trust for the unfinished feelings that hope for another tomorrow wordlessly filled with unsaid thoughts which plays like chords that I have never heard before. I feel my hands shake from nostalgia and too little sleep. I see the sun in the thousands of windows reflecting the dying light, and all I can feel in this moment is the weight of an insurmountable silence with a haunting oppugn “How the linear pauses of time caught up with me on a journey that wasn’t mine to take”.
