The
mirror of time reflected to me the thorns of the summer of 2014. The moment
when the thorn dug deep into the skin choking the heart to weep in sorrow was
at its pinnacle. The silence that haunts the ears and the words that pierced
through the soul. Memory is kind to give me the story again as it celebrates
its year old wound and scar. But the man of today saw it as a fitting scene to
happen as the ride between the couple gets more intense. Never a day did this
beautiful melancholic relic pass through my thoughts with a silent stride. I
bear the impact of the apple falling from the branches.
My
mind brought me to the spectre of the war where I lay wounded after the dagger
had struck me to the bone. The music had its abrupt stop when I was listening
to the melody. The quick pause caused my ear to resonate in dismay, longing
still for the song to play. As if the canvas where I paint tore itself leaving
my masterpiece to a halt. My world shrank into darkness and everything seems to
be without colour nor tune. A lifeless world was the world when the hum landed
in the lobes telling me that it is time for the end. A dead man was learning to
pick up the limbs where it was torn asunder. Without breathing anymore, the
heart still pumps rust towards the body scratching the within hurting the
outside. The heat bore too much weight on my skin and scavenged over the
carcass in drought.
Let
me remind myself that reincarnation is possible. The dead can come back to life
by stroke of miracle from the giver of life. The dead can come back to life
when the soul seeks to be one with the flesh and not to frolic amongst the
clouds. Amidst the shadow of the moment under the light of day, she came about
as the prodigal son in search for the union with his father. It is when that
soul never wanted an eternity of absolute freedom, but it thirst in choosing to
die with its origin. The origin when it learned to conspire with the universe
into order in the perfect time. I saw the light dawning on me again. Air began
to caress my nostrils, for the only scent I long to enmesh came back to linger.
The worms that feed over my flesh rot themselves away as I rejuvenate when my
purpose came back to me. I will never forget the day of your return, for it signalled
my rebirth. You placed the thorn, you pricked it out for too large a hole that
you know you will fill with your abundance. I am me when you and me are us and
we. Life for me has not been a contest to reach the grave, but the comfort of
knowing that I am loved. Is it too much to say that you are my life? My soul?
My air? My light? My hope? Your radiance carved within my heart tells me that
you are and we are.
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