She was a breathtaking being With poetry wrapped in the silk of her hair And the deep thoughts glistening in the sweat on her skin. She was a beauty that was ethereal. She was magnificent in her existence, Bleeding emotions all over the plain white of her dress Woven with threads of mystique.
Lying under the blanket of stars, I see so much more. I see myself riding the horse past the full moon On a clear starlit night. I see the possibilities of tomorrow, Shining bright. I see myself running alive amongst those yellow daffodils, With the joy bursting forth.
Listening to the waterfall, Gushing right outside my window I hear so much more. I hear the sounds of happiness, A melody that’s rare. I hear the song of the wind, Distinctive in my ears. I hear tomorrow calling for me to Take a step. One step.
Feeling the sense of completeness overtake me, I feel so much more. I feel the need to smile without a reason. I feel the need to let go of all the digressions. I feel the need write. I feel the need to write, with the essence of my soul as the ink, And my life as the paper. I feel the need to bleed with my words All over the blank canvas of time.
I am not hot or gorgeous.I don’t have an amazing figure or flat stomach.I am far from bring considered a model,but I am me.I eat food,I have curves,I have more fat than I should,I have scars,I have history.I don’t follow fashion trends.I don’t have a strict fitness regime.Some people love me,some like me,some hate me.I have done good,I have done bad.I love my PJ’s and I go without makeup.I am random and crazy.I don’t pretend to be someone I am not.I am who I am,you can love me or not.I won’t change.And if I love you,I do it with my heart.I make no apologies for who I am.It’s just the way I am.
Spring is here.There are flowers all around. Colorful ones.Beautiful ones.They are a treat to the eyes.I mean,my balcony and front yard are filled with flowers, which I can see all day long and yet, not get tired of it.
Some plants are sprouting buds which would lead to,wait for it,yes,more FLOWERS.
Some are red;some pink,fuchsia, white.And all are pretty.No color discrimination,whatsoever.
The spring flowers are,afterall, supposed to be beautiful.
But the coming of spring doesn’t,in any way,ensure beauty all around.Just like having happiness doesn’t ensure that you wouldn’t have to endure pain.Because you would.Eventually. That happiness would vanish and in its place, would come despair.Because that’s what life is about.VARIETY.Every freaking variety, you have to endure.
The pool of happiness dries and you are left with the drying petals of despair.
And pain.Yes.Sometimes, we live in the illusion that the happiness would prevail forever and ever.But it doesn’t.
Just like these flowers.They were once pretty.But right now?They are drying and would doon be nothing more than a dead, brown matter.Yes,that’s what they would be.
But but but.There comes hope.Because we cannot write a piece about happiness and pain, and not have hope come in and play the hero, now can we?
Yes.There’s always hope,just like every other “variety”.It comes out to play eventually.When you feel that you cannot bear the pain,despair anymore,you are hit with hope.Hope.It’s always there.Atleast,that’s my opinion.
In the same way,the flowers sprout buds again,and again,and again.And the beauty doesn’t vanish.No.It just might diminish for a while, but eventually,it returns.Full force.
Or more than full force.
And it’s breathtaking.Even more so.Because after pain,the happiness feels multiple folds better.