Tendrils of My Past

As I hurried through my belongings,
Wanting to see the world and embrace my longings,
I glanced through the bulk and found an old portrait, reminiscing who it was of,
And to my enkindling side, did I see an unconditionally calm persona of a home, right through the woods.

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And somehow, I felt as if the picture called me in to it.
As the fabrics of reality and my conscience fondled into an cosmic revelation of heavenly bliss,
And as the Night stars loomed through my head to Give way to the sprinkling of small battered stretches of Sun rays, did I open my eyes to feel the embodiment of unconditional harmony.
I was laying right there, beneath the heavenly canopy of the Chinar,
The grass cutting through me like Welded glass sprinkled over an infiniteness,
And its unconditional dew, seeping in through the inner harmonicas of my Eternal soul,
It was ambrosia in its purest form.

I stood up. And in front of me, lay right there,
A wood house,
Painted in delightful rosary blue and a tinge of Crimson red,
With a small garden with Roses, Lilies, Petunias, Hibiscuses and every other kind of flower ever to inhabit this blessed world we lived in.

It made me go back to it, it was curiously child like mystique,
The door though was a little weak with its old felt.
Walking through the woods,
An Autumn shower of leaves left me drenched in the serenity of Umber delight,
Each step I took brought a Crunching of leaves, and with bated breath did I take another step, lest I broke some more of these.
The walk to this house was a long one though,
And I realised how easy it was to leave something behind,
And how compelling enough it was to come back to it,
To hold it back, in your arms, and say the same words you spoke to them last, without a touch of undying truth,
To tell them to Not worry,
To tell them to live in the shadows of their mind and not leave,
To tell them that what they’re chasing is something they already have
All they have to do is, Stay.

With an upheaval in thoughts,
I reached the small gate of what was left of this house.
And as I opened it,
I saw a baby crawling and plodding till he magically stood up,
On his own legs and took his first step, and I heard a faint laughter and joy that shook a young mother as she saw her butterfly blossom its wings,
And the scene shifted, and I was right there when a young lad of 4 went to school for the first time,
With eyes that’d melt any milk chocolate, and a heart
full of pure compassion, did that boy refuse to go to a place of strange faces.
Crying, he was scared,
And all I saw his mother do was give him an embrace that’d let in a warmth that’d soothe your heart and light in the inner fire of chastity and purity in one’s mind.
‘Baby, All you need to do is Smile.’
She said lovingly, as the child beamed with love.

And came another time paradigm,
With a shifted axis of symmetry,
Years flashed through me,
The process of growing up, with all the warm-fuzzy memories that it caught upon,
How the boy and his mother matched their height levels,
The first time the boy had a sweet crush and had his heart broken,
How he failed and his father made him stand up, back onto where he should have been, how their little picnics smelled of unblemished cheese and sweet jam,
How they had this photo-op in front of the door, right outside the garden,
And how when one cried, the entire family cried,
With the most disturbing part being, how as the boy completed school, he decided to go out in the world,
Away from the sanctity of the woods,
Away from the Serenity of his mother’s love, while they pleaded him,
They pleaded him not to go,
They pleaded him to stay,
but he strode through the trees, the green lushing waves of unparalleled delights, and went out, seeming, never to come back.

My eyes hurt as this mystique story brought me back to the home, with me still clutching the front gate.
As I entered, I saw the house in the same state as it had always been.

The rooms, the furniture,
The photographs,
The familiar aroma of lavender and the herbal tint of olives.
Most of all, stood magnificently, the mirror,
The mirror, having seen everything this house ever went though, knew the true story.
As soon as I went in front of it.

I knew. I had come back home. But It was too l ate.
I forgot what it was to Stay.

 

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One Comment Add yours

  1. Terry Collin says:

    Thanks a ton for posting this awesome article.I really liked your blog and will definitely share this on my Facebook.Thanks a ton for a great article.

    Liked by 1 person

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