Windows to the Soul

I sometimes wonder why I didn’t pay attention to those clichéd sayings that we tend to come across so often. People say eyes are the windows to the soul; they might be. But the truth is that sometimes you see a reflection of what you feel, in the eyes of another. The damp glimmer that I might have in my eyes is understood and the tears cherished, yes, it’s reflected in another pair of eyes. The silent woes waiting to be told need not be said to be heard anymore for they are intertwined with the strings of the heart of another. The strong desire to hear the enchanting sounds once the dark befalls half the planet, along with another, may not go unnoticed anymore for far across there is another soul quietly absorbing the beauty of the night and gazing inside his soul just like me.

What a strange place this is, silent, soothing, comforting yet the memory of rare moments spent together threaded beautifully like a tapestry, a piece of art. Small joys and the hope of many more memories to make together, contentment at where you are, what you are and what life you carve out for yourself; what are they but signs of a joyous life.

Night arrives again, bringing with itself a familiarity; the humdrum of the night having a soothing effect on nerves. How beautiful is still of the night and how mediocre the hustle and bustle of the day at times. I close my eyes and the fuzzy memory lurking behind the demands of the day emerges in its full glory once again, playing a content smile on my face, my heart filled with satisfaction at being able to bring it to life whenever I want. Staircases are nothing but dull steps of concrete to many, but a sight frozen in those moments on the first few steps a long time ago can make it worth a lifetime; the day you started your life! So I give up and with dampness threatening to escape from the corners of my eyes, decide that yes, I can dedicate one more night to the memory, and another night, and another, and yet another, till the time comes for life and me to part ways….

A Soul Like My Own

The night is quiet yet so full of signs of life, of being, of strange elements that surround us as we breathe on. I can just hear the wind though; no crickets chirping, no children playing night cricket matches, not even the occasional car honking. If I close my eyes for a few minutes like I just did, I can hear my thoughts very clearly. So many of them, most of them with a question mark! So I let myself be. I live in the moment, savouring it, or at least I try. I revel in the quiet that the night brings. I try to be as grateful as I can be for the one who brought light in my life when all I could see around me were dark clouds. And I bask in the memories of rare moments that make me feel more alive than it ever seemed possible. I am scared to open my eyes for the fear of losing the beautifully embedded moments behind the veils of my eyes - my tears treated like precious gems, collected lovingly in the palms of a soul so like my own; my whispers that once were unheard, now tuned into a melodious song by a heart throbbing close to my own; my hair brushed away gently from my face with the grace of silent breeze. 734 days of my life, still with no clear path in sight, yet strolling down under the shade of lush green trees taking me to a land I am not familiar with, yet I can hear faint music coming from a faraway place that awaits me with open arms.

But then there is utter confusion; I wonder what will become of the trail that is a straight path down to the meadows fragrant with dainty blooms. I was headed there, leaving the uncertainty behind; I knew the sun shone brighter there, the lake awaits me so I can sit beside it soaking my feet in the cool water. But it all seems so distant now. The Pied Piper plays a tune that captures my heart as it always has. I look back one last time at the meadow that spreads its arms urging me to stay on. I feel a sharp stab in my heart, guilt emerging at the abandonment. I cannot possibly abandon what has given me shelter and solace. I look longingly at the shadow of the faraway place, my heart now singing the same melody that the Pied Piper played. And then it comes to me! I rip a piece of my heart, embellish it with the best of what I had in me and bury it under the shade of a tree as my everlasting love for the meadow, planting my affection, gratitude and burying my special song that would continue to enchant for many years to come. I gather what is left of me and take the path unknown, following the music, leaving behind everything that I had, my heart now ripped to pieces, my soul battered and bruised, my pride wounded beyond repair, but I carry on with my journey in the hope of capturing the music with my love, not knowing that mine are not the only two feet taking steps to that land.....