Skip to main content

Another Day Another Time

For the time that I did not have with you, I do not blame you. For the time I had but could not spent, I do not hold myself guilty. I have observed that Life follows its own mysterious  rules. Some cycles are short, some long and winding, never ending. What roads will lead us on to each other again, I do not know. That our paths will ever cross again, I cannot guarantee. How will it be, should we meet again, I cannot foresee.

I live with my inability to learn from my past, I love my inability to predict the future. This life does not run on my terms, I am not the driver of this carriage. Should the wild northern winds that power my journey, breeze me your way, we shall meet again. And then what we go on to become, is between you and me and my chauffeur, destiny.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Hush

You don't have to tell me. I just know. Its that little sniffle that comes through The unexplained pauses The slow responses I know when you call Just because you needed to cry.

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.

That Fluttering of Broken Wings

If you were to cross the road and hurt your toe, I know that I will never know. As we go on to take different roads and move on across different shores, there is something that happens to our relationships. Something that estranges, disconnects, disintegrates. I know that you still think of me. I know this because I find myself thinking about you. And thoughts rarely get seeded on their own. It comes from you to I and from I to you until one of us is alive. Old relationships rarely die. Like broken winged moths, they hang around dark alleys of forgotten memory lanes. Ever so often, I can hear one of them flutter its wings. Not too close but never too far.