Of Forgone Lands And Distant Dreams

Sehnsucht

The Luna
The Luna
Aug 31, 2018 · 6 min read

Hello. I see your curiosity brought you here. Convey my thanks to it by clapping!

A tender wave of breeze stealthily creeps in through the window cracks sending a shiver cascading down my spine.

It entwines itself with the tangles in my unbrushed hair, gently kissing the back of my neck, leaning in to whisper something in my ear : Wanderlust.

My emotions suddenly become too overwhelming for my veins to accommodate as the earnest call of nature plays on loop in my mind.

Salt stings my lips and the sand moves beneath my feet as the tide pulls me in.

Pexels Image

Until I’m shaken awake into awareness by the ringing doorbell reminding me of how far I’m from where I belong.

Wanderlust. The word lingers — feeling like there are bugs on your skin when there are none.

But these were the kind of bugs I’d nurture for the rest of my life for they reminded me of my home, nudging me to escape the realms of this tech-binded, money-oriented, meaningless rat race.

I sit in the balcony amused at the way we humans spend our whole lives gathering enough money to buy x amount of space to trap ourselves in. And then we pay some more for large windows and balconies to breathe fresh air into our clamped lifestyles.

But why pay for something that’s available all around, everywhere, to everyone, without gender, caste, class or economic discrimination?

I clutch the cup of coffee a little tighter as a substitute for human skin. Disappointed by a time where we touch more screens than people.

Envy tears up my eyes as I reminisce of the times when lovers did not have to hide behind the veil of four walls to display affection.

A time where love was not enslaved by rules of age and gender. A time where it was the only way to be.

A time where the stars were the GPS and clouds predicted the weather. A time where you had to sail across seas to connect with new people and discarding love was not as easy as swiping left.

Call me old-school, but that feels a lot more fulfilling than living amidst huge friendlists yet lonely hearts.

The nature’s lap seems a lot more comforting than some branded luxurious mattress that costs huge chunks of printed paper that we have began to value more than ourselves.

You might think I’m a pessimist who’s ungrateful for all things good in life. Yeah. Maybe I’m.

But maybe I’m not. Maybe the screams of my soul are too loud to be silenced. Maybe I’ve been quiet enough for the call of my purpose to penetrate the facade of this zombie-ish life.

Forcing yourself to sit through lectures trapping your potential in the pages of thick curriculum textbooks, trashing your art because it does not pay well — is not my idea of an ideal life.

A poem I wrote on the same

And I refuse. I refuse to be a slave to others expectations of how I should live my life. I refuse to crumple my creativity because this world is ardent on producing corporate robots.

I’d rather starve to death nourishing my art than kill it to serve this race of hollow creatures who trade peace for validation.

Photo by William Bayreuther on Unsplash

I still can’t stop my soul from tripping beyond the lines of unfair rules where women have to strip themselves clean of all biological things — anything that looks like blood, sweat or body hair.

While somehow when it comes to men, these are the things to be proud of. The body hair a proof of their masculinity, blood — an honorable sacrifice and sweat — an evidence of the labour they’re capable of enduring.

I can’t fathom the reasons why women strive to fight shoulder to shoulder beside men when they were evolved to be different. Not weak. But different. With their own unique strengths and capabilities. Something that most men can’t match.

I’m not disregarding the potential of men. Of course, they’re strong and capable but so are women. In their own incomparable ways.

by Pablo Heimplatz on Unsplash

But we as a species have become so consumed in fighting meaningless battles sacrificing human connection for the illusion of power that we have become blind to the amount of destruction we’re causing in the process.

We run away from things that nourish our soul — cut contact with nature, look at our fellow beings as an online profile with the number of followers defining their worth and burying our passions under layers of societal expectations.

And then we complain. We complain about being unfulfilled and lonely. We complain about not having anything to look forward to in life.

We have shushed our intuition for so long now that we need blog posts and books to teach us how to find our purpose.

We look at more screens than eyes and then find tutorials on how to maintain relationships.

But I can’t play along in this chaos.

I can no longer cut away fragments of my being to complete somebody else’s picture.

Pexels Image

I want to unshackle myself from all that’s holding me back and run. Run along with the wind. Go as far as it takes me. Dive into the sea. Find treasure. Not in the form of gold and pearls but in the form of peace and fulfillment.

Waking up to warm hugs and sun-kissed cheeks, playing footsie with the waves, tripping over snippets of joy hidden inside the sandcastles I built last night.

Dancing around the fire to the rhythm of the flickering flames. Singing along to the rhythm of the rain while the stars caress my back.

Closing my eyes to the lullabies of the moon enveloped in the blanket of faith that when I open my eyes the next morning, a brand new adventure will be waiting ready to sweep me off my feet.

Falling asleep with the contentment of knowing that there’s no place prettier than the body I inhabit and this is the best way I could be spending my limited moments on this heavenly celestial body.

Pexels Image

Publishous

Discover tomorrow’s bestsellers today. You'll say you knew them when.

Thanks to Nicole Akers

The Luna

Written by

The Luna

Life is hard. Fight back harder and grow through all that you have to grapple with. Poetry — https://www.instagram.com/pen_the_pain_/

Publishous

Discover tomorrow’s bestsellers today. You'll say you knew them when.