leaving...

Ever said goodbye to a house…. Its so much harder than people… how do you tell it why you’re leaving… how do you keep in touch… a house that gave me so much… a safe corner hidden from the world… when i needed it most...
As I slowly begin to pack and move out in pieces, I feel this tug at my heart…. This urge to carry the tree along with me… to hold on to those terrible nights that the house protected and comforted me in…. for all its kindness and love… to take my door step that I love sitting at… to pack those windows that I watched the moon from… that lane that I’ve walked down and skipped on…. Those bright red flowers…
I miss it so much already… ever missed something even when you’re with it….

Oh, I who long to grow, I look outside myself, and the tree inside me grows.
Rainer Maria Rilke

sometimes its not too late.... to put things right... to say what you didn't... to shed the last tear over it... to realise how stupid you are... sometimes its not too late to be forgiven...

to plain skies...

You should have seen the sky early last evening… a beautiful plain light blue… not variations… just a slight gradient… a simple photoshop achievement… and then out of nowhere there was this little baby cloud… he seemed to have been left behind… unable to catch up with the big clouds… his presence was startling almost… and I looked a little longer… he looked like a little fish frozen in one of the paintings my 10 years in art class would make… and then I thought he looked more turtle like…
I loved its sight… what ever it was… in a day that seemed to be never-ending and so demanding, it was my little bit of time off… my little contrast…

May there always be a cloud on a plain sky…
May there always be a contrast…
May there always be something that makes us stop to think…

Before You Came...

Before you came,
things were as they should be:
the sky was the dead-end of sight,
the road was just a road, wine merely wine.

Now everything is like my heart,
a color at the edge of blood:
the grey of your absence, the color of poison, of thorns,
the gold when we meet, the season ablaze,
the yellow of autumn, the red of flowers, of flames,
and the black when you cover the earth
with the coal of dead fires.

And the sky, the road, the glass of wine?
The sky is a shirt wet with tears,
the road a vein about to break,
and the glass of wine a mirror in which
the sky, the road, the world keep changing.

Don't leave now that you're here—
Stay. So the world may become like itself again:
so the sky may be the sky,
the road a road,
and the glass of wine not a mirror, just a glass of wine.

by Faiz Ahmed Faiz Translated by Agha Shahid Ali

the leaf is another year older...

How much can change in a year… feel my year really has come full circle… experienced it all in such a beautiful way… each season left a little tear and yet gave me so much to look forward to…
Felt the leaf that began its journey into the unknown last april… has drifted and strayed so far out of the way… found herself lost and lonely.. almost regretting having began the journey… but always tried to fight the odds… and look where she is today… hovering in a happy place… with the sun shining smiling…and she hopes the wind will keep her safe and that on dark nights, a star always sparkles down on her… she hopes it all stays how it is right now… but she is no fool… she knows she needs to keep moving to stay happy… and she just hopes she can take all that makes her happy with her…
she looks forward to the unknown…

another year older... not wiser... just another marking of time... nothing to celebrate... nothing to feel sad about either... life feels too long and too short all at once...