Hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades.
Time has snowballed into a terrorizingly massive storm.
Twenty years. Too long to look back, squinting along moments precious and bitter, to see that phase of innocence, confusion, longing, and hope. How did we so willingly submit to this. How did I allow time to create this constancy, this slow, constant erosion?
Hope. Rising, blooming, and fading with the change of every season. Things will change this year, this month, this time, we kept telling ourselves. How I blink incredulously at such steady placation. The denial successfully sunk deeper and deeper till it shrunk to the shining pin-point of reality, residing in all its glory for all to see, but carefully clothed and dressed in illusions, and careless, silly explanations. Now, it lies naked and bare, shivering in all our rude glares. Too late to grasp it, too soon to dismiss it, and too steeped in our lives to wrap it up in a quiet corner.
As acceptance tries to seep through the spaces to shed some warmth, a new year rises, bringing with it another cycle of immortal Hope. Hope again. Hope, that things will change this year, no matter how helpless I am, no matter how little control I have. I imagine and sincerely dream of plenty of positive changes, and wish very much, with all my last straws of will, that you both will be a part of it. Willingly, happily; like we have always dearly wished and imagined it to be in our isolated fantasies. May all our wishes come together in fruition in this space of reality we find ourselves in.
Hope. Rising, blooming, and fading with the change of every season. Things will change this year, this month, this time, we kept telling ourselves. How I blink incredulously at such steady placation. The denial successfully sunk deeper and deeper till it shrunk to the shining pin-point of reality, residing in all its glory for all to see, but carefully clothed and dressed in illusions, and careless, silly explanations. Now, it lies naked and bare, shivering in all our rude glares. Too late to grasp it, too soon to dismiss it, and too steeped in our lives to wrap it up in a quiet corner.
As acceptance tries to seep through the spaces to shed some warmth, a new year rises, bringing with it another cycle of immortal Hope. Hope again. Hope, that things will change this year, no matter how helpless I am, no matter how little control I have. I imagine and sincerely dream of plenty of positive changes, and wish very much, with all my last straws of will, that you both will be a part of it. Willingly, happily; like we have always dearly wished and imagined it to be in our isolated fantasies. May all our wishes come together in fruition in this space of reality we find ourselves in.
5 comments:
Nicely written. It is all in the mind.
Thanks Kannan.
Wow! Brilliance and beauty, all over the composition! Sharp and ruthless pragmatism combined so carefully with an idealistic hopefulness! In just a few words, you captured and presented, effortlessly, the deepest of your spiritual self during this new year's beginning.
Thank you for sharing...Beauty, such beauty... Especially the second paragraph. I thoroughly enjoyed it. And with the same hope and will, I wish you a very happy new year.
By the way, this is such a beautiful comeback after a month of hibernation, when I missed you, so much!
Hopeful, I was, then!
And renewed, you are, now!!
Beautiful- and yes, may all the dreams come to fruition this year :) (including the one about you visiting ;))
Meens, thanks for your extremely kind comment. I'm not sure I deserve your lavish adulation :). Again, a very very happy and bright new year to you too!
Seconsight, thank you! Haha, yeah the visiting part too ;). 1.5 years seems really long when I look back :).
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