I am …

Why couldn’t I be an effortless suite of music? ……..
Just wander away from reality, my eyes closed, to a place so peaceful and far away …
Maybe I could be an ever flowing river, or maybe, ruthless ocean winds. No care, no worry. Mindlessly carving my way and legacy, through time.
Maybe I could just float away in the melodies of a tune. Rises and falls of harmony which evokes all sorts of hidden emotions. A tune so careless … unknowingly affecting others. No one to affect me, but those who play my majesty.
So much more than I am now … I could be, would be, will be … a tune … a melody … a harmony … a river … winds … passionate, unreckonable, boundless, unconquerable, undefeatable, inexhaustible and unfathomable! … the epitome of majesty and true perfection! Far away … far far away from anything less than myself.
…………..
I am a tune that makes you feel insignificant, irrelevant, meaningless, and negligible.
I am a harmony, a melody, which rises and falls at its own will, decision, power, and resolution.
I am the indestructible winds that travel where and as they please, desire, thirst, and yearn.
I am the river who carves its way through nature and forms, designs, fashion s, and conforms the earth!
I am lost … I am gone … I am beautiful … I am everything I could never be ……

This music inspired my writing.

Watch “The Last of the Mohicans- Kiss of Rabab.flv” on YouTube

I am absolutely in love with this soundtrack and this man’s amazing talent!

Thank you

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Raindrops

“I’ll walk home, it’s nearby”.

She started to get up and walk away, but he just sat on his seat and watched her. She stood up with a certain grace that he’d never seen in a woman before. While standing at the corner of the table where they shared dinner, she looked outside with a thoughtful gleam in her eyes. Then she turned to look deep into his eyes and in a soft voice said “goodbye”, with a gentle smile.

She walked away while sliding her fingers across the edge of the old wooden table, as if she learned the history of that table just from touching it. Within seconds, his back was facing hers, and before he looked back, she was gone.

For some time he stayed still in his seat, trying to recover from her exit. Thoughts of her flooded his mind like a rushing waterfall. He’d had no closure; she left him there with no way of contacting her again, no way of knowing when he’d see her again or how he’d see her again.

The way she had walked out and said goodbye had left him stunned, he didn’t even get the opportunity to respond. He didn’t even get to say goodbye to this woman who had done some sort of magic on him. He hoped that her goodbye meant that they would meet again soon and maybe under different circumstances; maybe, when they were in better phases of their lives; maybe, when there was nothing to haunt them.

Finally, he got up and went out to his car. It was drizzling. He could imagine her walking in the dark, under the rain, all alone. It was a picturesque image … her long, dark, beautiful hair drenched and pulled back while raindrops flowed down her warm skin as he envied each one that touched her. Raindrops landed on her soft purple lips and she licked them off, admiring the dark sky. More than likely, she enjoyed the rain, cool breeze, and dark sky more than the time they had spent together that evening. As each second passed, he began to grudge against the rain. And she … well, she was probably personifying the rain with her feelings and how wonderful it felt as each drop caressed her skin, not knowing how it made his blood boil.

To Walk Away

If I walk away my sorrows will stay behind where I leave them, back where sorrow rules. I do not care where I go, just as long as I am far away from what has taken over my life. I am walking now, walking away from everyone and everything. I wear nothing fancy nor do I carry anything. I have not prepared for anything; however I do not plan on stopping till I am sure sorrow is far behind. I see nothing but dryness and sand. Is it really what is ahead of me or is it an illusion trying to dishearten me? Is sorrow afraid it might loose its battle over me? I will not let simply an illusion win me. I will continue to walk. I feel so calm. There is no one or nothing to cause me pain. Could it be that sorrow is left behind? Could it be that I have walked out of its kingdom? One more step and my feet are hurting. Maybe if I walk some more they will become numb and I won’t feel the pain… why isn’t this working? Now my legs are aching. I said I will not stop walking until my sorrows are left behind so I am still going to walk. How long has it been? Days? The pains have moved on to my back, my throat is dry and my stomach feels as though someone turned it inside out. I spoke too soon to wonder if I left sorrow behind. Gravity has become hard to fight to fight; my whole body is breaking and falling. Sorrow is taking over my body. My feet are now bleeding; I am leaving trails of blood behind myself. It is my mark on this land, this earth that I tried to fight sorrow to the greatest extents. I am now on my hands and feet; crawling I attempt to go as far as I can. Sorrow has a strength difficult to comprehend. It has sent its army after me and they are shooting me with arrows that are piercing my body. I am now dragging myself and the sun is setting. My hands are also bleeding and my eyes are closing. The last thing I see is the sun set with a flash of light across the horizon. I am surrounded by darkness but no sorrow or pain. No blood or thirst. I have won; I have left sorrow’s kingdom.

Waterfall

I often sit and stare at the sun or maybe the stars and moon. I might even stare into the dark empty sky and wallow about the fact that the sky is deprived of stars. But today I am not sitting nor am I even looking in the direction of the sky. I just stand here and watch as every single drop of this waterfall hits the rocks below and joins the stream. I just smile and think how many people must have cried to make this stream flow with such density. Then I think to myself why I must personify everything in such a manner. Let me laugh at myself and release me from this beautiful and lovely torture. A bird sits at the top of the waterfall and drinks from it, tell it not to drink from here, his thirst divests someone hurt from releasing their pain and sorrow. Tell it to drink from the calm ocean bay where the rage of expression is not so intense, from where if even some tears are stolen it does not matter much as these tears are just of formality. Those tears are meaningless and unsought for. They exasperate me, infuriate me, yet I come to the conclusion I should not be bothered. So I turn and walk away calmly.