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A little black stone and the unrhythmic waves

There’s a little black stone

In me,

Since you've gone.


It’s safe inside a window

overlooking the ocean

that’s forever caught

in irregular tides.


Sometimes the spray catches the Stone

and falls right in.

Absorbed by this little

unyielding,

unassuming bit.


I’m really good at looking past it

from inside the room

inside the window.

That’s where I live,

ever since.

It’s a silent room,

but for the unrhythmic waves

and inexplicable

palpable air.


Sometimes though,

something happens.

Maybe your voice comes forth

from where there must be a fault

in the Stone.

Maybe your heartbeat resounds

from where the tumultuous waves

seep into the Stone.


And then,

the waves inside me,

they leak out

in shame.

Weak, wispy drops of water

fall through from what

was once a mountain spring.

They’re drying up.


Sometimes though,

the Stone becomes the room.

And I’m plunged into memories

that are all but the reality.

Right into your arms,

our fingers interlaced as we walk

the streets.

Me sitting on your lap

watching something both of us

were really into.

You making me a coffee the

way I almost liked.

Us.


I’m engulfed in the dark

non-being of the Stone.

Hard,

yet stoic.

In this stone room,

I’m not me,

as I am today.

But me,

as we were.


The waves outside me cease to exist

and those within,

have found the still ocean.


And just like that,

I'm back to the room

inside the window.

And the little dark stone is on the table.


Strangely,

I feel empty.

As though the stone were inside me,

and now ripped away.

I can see a part of myself

lapped up by the waves

that cant make up their mind -

if they want to crash and flood over

till they're eventually harmonized

or

engulf all and return to the ocean’s

still arms.


Yes,

I know I could throw the stone out,

and let it go

out into the esurient waves.


But

this room and everything in it,

is only borrowed

from the one who eternally

stays.


Image Credits: Somewhere on google


So, I've had quite a few conversations with you'll in the last week about writing and the themes I typically choose to write in (or the ones that choose me). In one such conversation, someone did point out that romantic love/heartbreak has not featured a lot. And I concur. The reasons are hold their own enigma, and are best left in its mysterious embrace! But here's the thing, I do write about love and heartbreak (both of which I'm a certified pro in) but these pieces are so personal, that I prefer sharing them only with those to whom they are dedicated. If you have ever received such a piece, you know what I'm talking about.


However, the conversation got me thinking, and I dug out a piece from the archives to share with you. So here's a glimpse of a hitherto unshared piece about love and loss. Why on a Tuesday you ask? Well, because it does seem like an awfully long week now that Monday's done.


Here's to a nostalgic Tuesday!

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1 comentario


Invitado
24 abr 2023

Brilliant

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