Why do I feel that giving in to things that can never say no, never give back, never misbehave – is far more satisfying? Such is the consequence of heartbreak. I think the collective of men and women was a bad idea. I think the discipline required for attending to a heart was never taught to them. So broken and mistreated they lie, walk, alone on the streets. Dark corners are made for lovers and we fret in open spaces. Should we judge ourselves from what we choose to hide? Should we even be asking questions like these?
I want nothing from a night sky but its calm, its serenity and its infinity. Its continuity forever allows me to step out of time. Like waiting on a phone call with no hold music. So you watch the timer on the screen tick, but there is no movement, no noise – you are holding. You are standing as time slips by. You become a constant suddenly, irrespective of the time. Humans are not a function of time and that is perhaps why I love the night sky. As I sit under it I wonder of multiple things at once and just the empty space of the universe makes me feel ok about being myself. My mind feels cluttered in cluttered spaces. And under a sky I lie exposed yet comfortable, infinitely.
I want nothing from the sky. I expect nothing from it. I just want it to be there, I just want it to exist. So it can be an object of my affection. So I can attach some love to it. Because I haven’t yet learnt how to love things that don’t exist. Like unicorns and god. I think there needs to be some innocence of a child to do that, some purity. I am not sure. But I fail to do it. Fail to love a man who never was.
But I love everything that exists for me. I loved him. I love him. I have never told her, I love her too. The impediment that expression in words can provide to human love, sigh. Love for love’s sake and love unconditionally.
So we might turn to dust as the clock ticks by and our constants are diminishing by the second. And technically still, we are a function of time. But I am defiant. And love has given me the confidence to feel that. I refuse to accept that the love I feel for songs, for writing, for beauty will die with me. I think that differentiates us, the driven people of this world. I would like to believe that my determination of being different is not from this generation’s bloated sense of entitlement but from this generation’s curiosity of testing limits. I want to belong to the breed of hungry, mad men who will claw their way out of hell’s gates. Who will probably self destruct but never accept defeat.
Who refuse, absolutely, to say no.
I am not sure of what distances we need to travel to get to the holy land which will take us to redemption. Which will save us and bring us closer to the lord. I do not know of any staffs and their magic. And I barely know of myself. But I know one thing, that I am willing to walk. That I am willing to give. That I am willing to mean nothing to someone who can mean everything to me.
Because that’s what lovers do. Passion is toxic, seeps everywhere. Try finding a man/woman with no passion and you will know time. You will know its wretched existence. And you will fall out of love. For love is timeless and the second’s hand it can not be.