Tag Archives: Me

Two Dragonflies Chilling By The Ivy Arched Window Pane

We all have one of those days when everything seems unfinished. We are unsure about the chapter on the next blank page, about the pending chores that we left for an apparent tomorrow, about the next moment where we were supposed to begin with a pre-planned activity. This immature mess builds up steadily in the mind’s landfill and becomes a sheer garbage before you realise years have passed!

…..With a chill timid breeze beating up gently, I stand behind my tea stained ebony railing, facing hundreds of willow trees. It is a fresh two day getaway before I join my allied mess. All I’m sure about at this point is the imagination running through the wilderness of my mind, that moment. My mind’s wafting wilderness itches the strangeness of the evening. Far away, I can see two dragonflies chilling by the ivy arched window pane. One goes to the other and showers all the love it has. Your golden laced wings are beautiful, it says. The vines running along my ebony railing goes and ends above that rose cottage. The tender pink roses have bloomed and merged onto the corner of roof. They had a tough misty morning. They just dried themselves out from the drenching dew and a tiring work session. Don’t even get me started about the sunflowers standing near the silver door. Their fashion parade in the noon to attract the bee swarm was such a drama- I have lesser drama in my life. 

My coffee arrives as I start looking into the crisp green grass. I look back into the willows and everything strikes back, but in bits. I get the clarity of my mess as I sip and stare into the chamomiles amid the crisp greens. The whites gave me confidence to sail through the plume of unorganised thoughts.

My perfumed skin felt numb against all that I was trying to push inside me; fragility was a reason. In the bizarre evening, I try to tune the mess to art, little by little. I try to mouth emptiness into beauty, make music in the ash grey heaven. I also try to understand you like how the paper supple roses mend itself, get you. 

It is just another day where I figured out that this is the reason why nature never goes outdated. It mends you. It mends you like no other, from within. 

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Swooning with the stranger in you

You find so many things on the way. The withering leaves, shrivelling tree bark, gaily faces, drooling ones, tender leaf blade that just saw an inch of land, a sand grain holding a bead of sweat, a surgical knife with blood that many are living for, two ignorant eyes with false hopes, a harassed soul, a soul with a bunch of hard earned notes.. and many different strangers ..

Out of all these, we are all a stranger to ourselves, few interesting lost pieces, trying to find ourselves in others. Every day, every moment, we try to find the self. A beautiful stranger indeed. There are more to these tiny, imperfect things that we find on our way. To find the mysterious, creative stranger in you, look more into things, in an enrapturing way. There’s a different meaning to what you see in others. They’re broken because of something, they’re not greedy since their birth, there’s beauty behind their ignorance, there’s a flow of lines behind every broken heart. Go, find it- you’ll find yourself. A new stranger.

When I see a broken heart, I’m just a stranger helping it fix. I find a fallen leaf and I’m a stranger who’s admiring its imperfections. I’ll be swooning, with my first hard earned award in my hand and I’m that stranger who blushes looking at her love.
Just, a stranger, trying to mend your soul. By a smile or by whatever it takes.

Learning to swoon with the stranger in me, you helped me find it. If I’m a ruptured soul, dear stranger, will you help me mend it?