words

There were words that leaped out of neatly bound library books and offered solace in the dark nights of the soul. With wonder, you remembered these miraculous tomes set by a writer whose heart was full of infinite longing and pure love. 

For years, my dream has been to write with the same magical touch that offers solace to the reader. I never knew this dream till you peeked at my midnight dreams that summer. Awake from sleep, I wanted to tell you what I felt for you especially when you were away from me and how my heart beat when you were with me. 

Though you were not mine to own, I started becoming possessive about you. You need to smile at me, talk to me only or enjoy spending time with me, I argued. In the realm of words, I starred writing the songs of silence about what you mean to me. 

This heart wants not to please the mob; only to sing about what it remembers the most of a long-lost love. These songs have no art; they speak of the loss in not having you beside me. They have neither rhyme nor rhythm but only a wild beat of words that are quaint to the ear, yet in their own way, unique and creative. 

Words come, with its thousand limbs, entangled meanings and nuances, like a sudden burst of rain that creates ripples in still water, while the great green forest holds watch over with its mighty silent wombs of understanding, from that moment when you appeared in my midnight dreams for the first time.