Your story is all about crossing the horizon, passing the bend on the road, singing songs that you have never heard before, crossing the seas to see purple sunsets, going over the hill so as to find another one to climb, rowing away as the sun shows the way to places that most dare not even tread.. that is you.
You! you don't just want to know, you want to see and smell and feel, if possible touch, even the paint used...You want to know and feel and be,on how it feels to wake up on a man's chest and feel his heavy breathing and snuggle up his shoulders just to let him know that you would love him until the end of time and that broad chest and shoulders are all but yours to know of.
Once more on to the beach, dear friends, she may scream (all the movies that she may have watched by then, hopefully)... but she would never wanna be near one, she would never wanna know how it feels to hold her best friend's head on her lap and see her gasp for her last breath looking only to her for help, she may never wanna know how it feels to fail everyday and yet get up and place a smile and go back to doing what you are doing in a choice less world where the war is within oneself, she may never wanna know what it feels for a lady to pick a homeless orphan and see him cry looking longingly into her eyes as if there is no tomorrow..
You! you feel for most things moving, you want to be there, you want to embrace all that makes up life, not just listen or read stories...You are too grown up within of you, your age seldom speaks, your mind seldom falters but you are not grown up enough to fathom as to what a li'l fella whom you love can do to make your life a living hell just 'cause he thinks he is in love with you... seek answers from within of yourself, seek answers from the crevices of your mind, your heart and your soul.. now you have most of them left with you..soon a day may arrive when not much of all that matters would be left with you and that would be the rape of a soul which could have really moved a million others, a repository of goodness which would wither inside the tantrums of another's obsession.
No comments:
Post a Comment