what could have been but is not.

i waited.  but your footsteps did not echo mine.  I've been a different person with each space i occupied in Delhi, this city of myriad moods.  the mellow winter warmth thawed my frozen heart.  innocence and sweetness.  a hushed bliss.  exploring and discovering new words, colours leached from carnations, sunflowers suffused smiles which you tied around those months streaming in a wavelike ribbon behind.

it was sort of like holding the big shiny moon hidden in my tightly clenched fist.  we should have just let the free-fall be and then the tranquility would have been ours...we would have danced in its glow.  

rendered silent now by its loss.  if only things were different we would have laughed and played in the calm majesty of the present.

now that the present is lost and the past....how do i make sense of myself; how do i collect the chards of a broken image; how do i make my hurt better?

i am the waters of a flowing river.  there are not cracks in water, yes the ripples will be there but the calmness will return.

breathe.... and let go.

self-deception

deception is not always deliberate.  i woke up this morning with memories of a lost love, of a love which is still moist and warm, which can still breathe life into the dark recesses of my mind.  They say you must make space for anything new to take root; that a new love shall want its legroom.  Here, now...where is the space for it to deepen and take root.  Shall it then abandon hope or stay and live with the old?  or shall it weep for the sweet juices of an earlier love which still remains and whose luscious secrets are plenty?  shall they rot together or will a new harmony be born?