Celebration

When life started each morning was a blessing; each hour a time to celebrate. The sacred chants held a great mystery that could elevate the soul from its drabness. Now, every moment is a long drag, a step heavily drawn, from habit to habit, from place to place, without energy.

For with all its idealism, life was real from the first few years. Then you came along with your positive messages and need for miracles. Somehow, my touch with reality was lost in the same moment. No wonder, I prayed for wonders spending sleepless nights hands spread before the holy icon.

Nothing happened but a slow withdrawal into silence and a coldness that replaced the early joviality. At times, when the heart forgets its long lost desire, the one dream that mattered more than anything else on earth and rejoices in whatever has fallen into these little hands without asking.

Only on those moments, this life comes real and turns into pages of quite happiness quite unlike the loud but blessed ones who celebrate their happiness in the streets with splashes of colour and loud music. Here, only a smile shines quietly to fade again.