I remember the way the branches curled towards me that day, the way they swayed to and fro. It was something beautifully unexpected, a miracle of nature, a divine curiosity. And I remember standing there in wide-eyed awe, losing myself to the sheer loveliness, lost in a state of childlike wonder. Chills crept down my spine in delightful little bits, and goosebumps erupted as a plethora of tingling sensations washed over me from head to toe. But the thrill wasn’t meant to last, and after one breathless sigh I blinked, and the exquisite array vanished. That was when the heaviness began to gather at my feet, and an unforeseen darkness approached from a place I’d never been. As the winds altered their direction, everything changed. And the wondrous splendor of that unforgettable day is still nowhere to be found.
Loneliness it comes in many forms and I have known them all. But I think the loneliest times are when I’m surrounded by a sea of expressionless faces. Those empty-eyed, silent beings always appear to be lost in mind-numbing, alien-sweeping, brain-snatching activity. And if I stare intently enough, focusing long and hard enough, I can almost see those denatured souls being surreptitiously sucked out of every finger-tapping mortal who has unknowingly fallen victim to the technological advances of our times. It often leaves me queasy and fearfully uneasy. For I must admit that I too, have fallen subject to the interest of self-isolation within the matrix. Using it as a security blanket for companionship because community no longer exists within the confines of my existence. There are instances when I do attempt to turn the world around. And with desperate breath I try to disengage from the illuminated rectangle nestled nice and neat between my pale palms. But then loneliness sneaks in, finding me once again. And the screen in my hands becomes the only life left to be found.
Love can make a person crazy. One moment we can be flying high as a kite in bliss-filled folly, and the next, be stuck knee-deep in the fast forming muck of dolor. Mostly makes me wonder, is there ever an end? Even though I already suspect I know the answer, I’ve still never figured out how to live with the tragedies of love. I just continue to remain tangled up in all the delights and despairs, entertaining the knock of love whenever it happens to find me. Seems like I would’ve learned my lesson by now, but I guess that just shows the true value of love. It’s worth more than any cost we could ever bear. So we open our arms to it, time and time again, hoping that someday happiness will come along instead of dismay.