Rediscovery.
The human mind and heart have infinite potential.
Three years back if someone had told me, our dreams are entirely fallible — I would not have believed them. I thought happiness was linear, a function of togetherness — nurtured by a shared vision of sunlit mornings, waking up next to the one that you loved.
You can never imagine how empty the edges of your fingers feel, without the warmth of someone you love — until the side of the bed next to you is entirely without creases.
But that’s okay.
Until the memories of the voice of the one you loved has faded away from your ears, you can never really hear the rustle of the leaves or the gently swinging wind chimes in the middle of the night.
Until the face that you loved has eroded into a silhouette, you have never really seen the moonlight that endures gently over time.
Until your lips have forgotten the warmth of love you never really notice the cracks in them — till they bleed and remind you that you were human, after all.
So how do you learn to live again?
Three years later when you are stood on the edges of a mountain — staring into a thousand feet abyss, holding on to the cold rocks wettened by the overnight, relentless rain, you realize that there’s more strength between your fingers than you ever realized.
When you a catch a glimpse of the moonlight that projects shadows that you never thought existed, and yet you persist — you realize that like the moon that has existed over billions of years, you too will endure. And you too, like the billions before you that have existed and perished in the cold of the night looking for meaning beyond the warmth of their lovers, will find the trail that was meant for you.
And then when you have smelt the metal in the blood that leaks in from your cracked lips, you will remember that you are truly alive.
The wind and the cold, and the morning sunlight
They never really leave our side
Often we imagine how life would be,
Weaving happiness in places and heartbeats,
Where they were never meant to be.
But in our imagination and fantasies,
We forget to live and to be.
© Showmock Ghosh 2022
