In recent times,wilderness has crept up in my dream. When I sleep, I see the light flicker and gleam. The images are hazy and moving very fast. One submerging with the other, leaving confusion at last. One moment I'm in my home, the next I'm out for a stroll. I'm still a blossoming child but beside me I see my baby crawl. My class suddenly becomes a playground where my children play and I supervise them from a distance as my friends create art out of clay. Though not a horror show, it is not less than a nightmare. It shakes me to the core, as I am left with a lot to bear. When I wake up in the morning, I'm in a hangover of my dream. With the events hazy and unclear, not knowing the essence of my dream. It keeps pecking at me in the hours of my solitude. It's not happening in real life, I am filled with gratitude.
Why must you insist On taming the beast inside When there are wild flames Dancing behind darker eyes A wildfire heart Roaring to be freed Riverbends birthed Rouge in the bloodstream Racing pulse pulls To run with the wolves Overgrown woods scream To be unearthed Nature sprouting, thriving Untouched, submersed Why must we protest Bounding ourselves in chains When the strong call of wilderness Howls deep in our veins
There is this inconspicuous window in her room, to most people anyway. She kept it hidden from everyone for so long. It is really easy when you can distract people with all the amazing piece of art in the apartment. Sometimes we get easily fooled by the things that shine.
She is really good at distracting people when they try to talk about things she doesn't want to talk about. When we first started talking, it was really hard for me to tell whether she was being sarcastic or not. It was so confusing, it still is, sometimes.
"It's getting late, I have to go" She whispered, as she kissed goodbye to the cigarette bud with the last puff. "I hate it when you smoke" "I'm having a terrible headache" She replied without looking at me. When you're trying to understand someone, it's these tiny details that you often fail to see. And that's where we all go wrong. Maybe we will get stuck with the idea of "smoking", or we get stuck with the idea of "a headache". Then we will ask a bunch of questions starting with a "why" or a "what", trying to understand the whole situation to figure out a solution. Maybe all they want is a few moments of silence, just some private space to figure things out.
That's the problem with dating someone strong and independent. They don't really need you most of the times since they are really good at taking care of themselves.
"Do you know why I love stars?" she finally asked, looking up above. The sky looked like art, a masterpiece, trying to tell us a million tales with the flickering lights. It is actually telling us a million tales, some we've managed to understand and many we don't. Even the spaces between the lights stand for something. Something beyond our normal realm of reality.
"They represent something extraordinary" she continued. "It is like staring right into the past life of something that happened long before our existence. It questions our understanding of time, this is nothing but a universe that existed in different parts of the time. Some a few minutes before, some few hours, some thousands and some may not even exist at this moment. In the grand stage of things, our now is nothing but a collage of a past that no longer exists. We are so damn foolish, thinking we need words to tell what we feel when the universe does a better a job with this darkness and flickering lights"
She is right, in a way. We are so obsessed with the idea of a perfect way to tell what we feel. Maybe that's why we end up using the backspace button more often than we think. We type, we delete, till we find something perfect that suits. It is more like the same as our obsession with camera filters. We say looks don't matter, still ends up using the beauty mode anyway. Looking "good" when thousands for strangers look at you through their six-inch screen is really important now.
"Maybe you should write about it. Its been a while since you wrote anything, you know." I'm not sure, what I meant by 'it', about the stars or about what she's feeling right now. I don't know. I should leave it to her.
"Why?" This time she looked at me. There is something in her eyes that tells me she wants to talk about something. "Why this obsession to write about everything we feel or capture every single moment in digital form or share everything that's troubling us? Maybe we should just close our eyes and just be there, at that moment, even if it's just temporary."
"Maybe you should" I looked at the way she glows against the crescent moon, and smiled. The human mind is so complex, that's what makes us so special. Even if we are nothing but a big cosmic mistake, we are special. Everyone has their own way of expressing themselves. That's why we invented language, social media, even the smiley. But it's not perfect, expressing what you feel in words is sometimes not enough.
We are defining things. Love, happiness, life more and more lies about what it is, and how it should be. Maybe that's where we are wrong. Sometimes you just let the mind work its ways. We are looking for things that don't exist.
"You know, it's okay to be vulnerable and scared. Life is never about being happy, its this whole package of all crazy scary things. That's what makes us feel alive. It is okay to not able to tell what you feel, words are overrated sometimes. You can talk about it when you figure out what you're feeling, one day you will"
She came a little closer "Patience with small details makes perfect a work, like the universe." she said, this time smiling. It was Rumi's, one of her favorites. "Why are you being so patient with me?" That's a question I don't know how to answer.
"I'm not patient, sometimes we fall for all the wrong reasons"