“She’s a known world, an aftermath of a brilliantly crafted story projected to selected people of questionable character. She’s something one sees and keeps in mind for a while and then forgets, as if it never happened. A moral that is never meant to be learnt or a vista that is never to be stored in a beautiful memory. Still she persists, as life persists as long as the breath is alive.”
Her charishma in the cruel world stands tall. Her tales of mystery still confuses the real you. Her smile of dignity finds a place amongst the fear of losing things. And there, we quip to ourselves if she’s still the lantern on the chair we once saw and unconditionally believed in.
Of course, she is…
Having written and asked the words of life in one conversation where the people over the other side of the world stood still, the noises made no more audible to this rather overly active ears, and the nature went curious as to how to explain the matter of facts and emotions into few words, she sat close to her knacking heart and listened to it’s every suggestion. The time was tuff but even tuff she was, smiling and giggling out of her beautiful plait. She spoke of what was meant to be spoken, an adequate answer to an adequate question.
Now having distance meant nothing but a visible knot waiting to weave a dress of life which is wore at a special occasion. She is there, gleaming her eyes on a rather questionable deed. In the weather of extreme temperatures, she stands lifting off every anger that ever persisted. By no means she will not ask, nor will she answer as to why she made herself the victim of nothing. Through the eyes of an another victim, she be the light holding the grace of the finest mornings of the future.
Even getting older than yesterday wasn’t easy that she remarked that she won’t be there anytime soon and she won’t solve the puzzles anymore. Her thoughts paddling over the limitless sky won’t answer to any question that will ever be asked. She chooses to be silent in the world of chaos and forgery.
So, I don’t believe in a predictable future, I don’t overdo the demand of prevalant today and I don’t repent for the withered past, and in the voyage of life’s search I see the lantern on the chair, graceful and free as she always was.