Dear Annie,
Do you ever feel lost? As if, the one street light that was supposed to somehow show you your way in a dark alley also went off?
Perhaps, you are wondering why I always write you letters full of questions, whose answers will never come. Or, perhaps you don’t, you know me too well. Annie, does that bore you? Knowing someone so well that you can differentiate and interpret their silences? Isn’t that boring? There’s nothing new to expect or any anticipation.
I know I keep losing you, somewhere in the everyday smoke of existence and stench of life. I lose you to the harangued auto-rickshaw man, the interactive computer screens and the homecoming birds. But, it is better this way, it makes it so much more worth it when I rediscover you, in some corner of my mind, shining as I had left you, as somehow the dust of age never seems to settle on your shoulders.
These days everyone seems to have a broken feeling. Or, perhaps Annie, everything is broken, but no one breaks them, they just break anyway. It is like this wind chime, we had once seen, made of sea shells. As, the wind made it dance, it rang out beautifully yet there was a melancholy note, as if, it was sad at being so far away from its nurturer. Annie, remember, what you had said to me? You had said I was a flotsam and could never find an anchor, yet the world seems to be floating around and I seem to be static. The world moves too fast these days, doesn’t it?
My letters to you always find me whining or dreaming or just being me. Through these letters, I find myself as if, seeing me through a glass of scotch. Perhaps, that is why I don’t write to you often. It is not easy to frequently see ourselves in the naked light.
If you have read till here, you will know why I asked you the first question. I feel blind, floundering, feeling my way about and banging off walls. Yet, there you are a blinding flash of light, peace between the frothing breakers, life in a wasteland – I hope this letter finds you well
With all my love,
Rain Messenger
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6 comments:
This is very profound, and I like it, even if it is not like your usual work. It seems rather wistful, and makes me hope that this Rain Messenger will find his Annie and never lose her again...This letter tugs at my heartstrings in the same way your poems do. Keep it up, I enjoy reading your work! :)
I agree...I agree not with a sense of boredom...but more with the loss of anticipation...it makes me restless....and then suddenly, all solace is switched off for some reason...yes my world seems to move too fast....and in the process of observing its velocity, i forget that im still tugging at the anchor...like it...give me a sense of belonging, your words...keep writing
Annie is still there...as she will always be...
your talent is not only poetry but also your ability for intense introspection. It's amazing when someone can recognize who they are..whether they like it or not.
thank you for all your kind comments, they never go unnoticed or unappreciated.
I donno why your ANNIE reminded me Blunt's more than Denver's.
Muses are always present at the back of our minds, the shining beacons of last resort when the entire world seems too real and too negative. Muses are what brings back the sappy fluffiness of romance, of hope, positivity back into our lives.
And it is largely due to the fact that we are all unfulfilled in our real lives. Somewhere a want cries out, a need rises, a desire takes birth which has no fulfillment. There the muse comes into picture, turning bleak pages into fascinating ones by mere lucid dreaming.
But beware your muse does not eclipse reality too often for in the real world there are enough good people left.
Cheers.
:)..a prose after long time!!!
well arranged thoughts and analysis
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