During this time of the year I am a bag of mixed feelings. I don’t know who or what to blame. Is it because I wear jacket one day and a simple summer dress the other day? Is it because the weather is more unpredictable than the behavior of many known people? Is it because I was unwell during this time of the year couple of times in my life?
I don’t know the answer, except I was unwell this time too and had to rush to hospital. Such is life! Sometimes I feel it follows its own pattern and sooner I simplify that pattern better it is to live with.
This morning I just felt more lost than ever, even though every physical thing around me proved: I am much better today.I wrote this
short poem while feeling sick last week: on one morning when I wanted to write and words kept playing hide and seek with my fevered mind.
Flames of that story
Sometimes you miss the whole meaning.
Sometimes half-burnt words complete my story.
There are too many ways to reach the point,
but I take the one that’s filled with light
to sanitize my vision, so that
I can select misery from feigned hopes
and paint with bright flames.
My words swing with a puff of wind:
cold in your cold land,
warm when they touch.
The flames are no longer that lengthy,
but walk with caution.
Fire is hidden deep inside.
The ashes blew half-burnt, but half-alive.
Words unsaid are widespread now
as I painted each of them with bright flames.
** Does spring make you nostalgic? Do books help if you ever feel lost?