The Letter

Hiiiii,

                I cannot say if the feelings I have for her are real. I just know that I feel this feeling of great joy and happiness when I think of her. She makes me feel special and wanted. No one has done that till now. I don’t know how the relationship between us two will change, but I think it will not. I am not scared to confront her about my feelings. Tomorrow, I want to go up to her and tell her how I feel about her, but I won’t. Only for one reason. She means so much to me and I just don’t want to hurt her feelings. I desired to go out with...... who was the first love of my life. She will also be the last. I don’t want to fall in love with her. I am too scared. I just do not want to hurt her. I think I am in love with her, but I tell no one about my feelings. To tell you the truth. I care not for her good looks. The only thing that I believe I have is feeling for or love for her mind. I love the way she thinks. Just thinking about how she thinks just runs shivers down my spine. I want to know her. I want to be with her.

Now, you are probably saying to yourself, “God! He seems to have great feelings for her. He even seems a little obsessive and messed up; he could even be a little crazy! Well to tell you the truth, I am tired of everyone calling me crazy. The only way that I could be crazy, is that I am crazy in love with her. I know that I am young. 25 and going on 26, but I believe that I am in love with her. If only I could tell her how I feel. I do not know what is going to happen. Will I still love her in a week? A month? A year? Or could I love her for the rest of my natural-born life? I will never know. I was going to tell her how I felt about her two days ago, but my fears of hurting her where too great. I wrote her a letter that I was going to email her. Where is the passion? Online love letters. Well, I spent a long time trying to make the letter perfect so that she would fall immediately in love with me and that she would want me to be with her forever. I even read it over and over to make sure that there were no mistakes and that everything was perfect.” I wish I had sent it out. I am going to kick myself all of my life. I will forever have the question over my shoulder that will be: What if? And then I will be in a state of flux my whole life. 

Ok. Enough with the jabber. Here is the letter: (Don't expect Shakespeare) You might ask yourself that and wonder who this "Prince Charming," this "Romeo...is? and then who this SHE is?" This SHE is no other than “KHUSHI”….my Love. Do you ever dream of someone being there who will understand you and feel what you feel? Though, what is even more torture to you, is that what you have in your dreams. Then, you wait and you desire this person to be even more perfect the day you imagined me. In your search for "Mr. Perfect," you find nothing but simpletons and foolish look-alikes that want to use you like a trophy or such a mantelpiece on which flourishes their home. You are no trophy to me. I cannot lie to say that I am totally oblivious to you. In fact, it is totally opposite of the way I feel for you. I am no "Romeo," nor "Prince Charming," or either am I "Mr. Perfect," but I will be blissful if I am even anything like these characters to you. Laugh if you must. I am not afraid anymore and now I have the guts to look into your eyes and state my love for you. I will not feel ashamed to say it. You mean the world to me. Always waiting for a poetry from you……

The Oppulent Songbird - A Change (Part 5)

I gave the songbird one last heartfelt thought. The burning question struck her breast like a flaming arrow. With that final effort, reason outweighed her premature contentment and childlike fears. Reason to escape her gilded prison. And, I once again made it my goal to free her.

Quickly, I reached up and repeatedly tore at the lock with my fingers(as if my own hand was all that was needed). But, it would not budge. The songbird told me it would not be enough. She chirped a shrill note high into the air which magically opened the prison door and allowed her to fly free.

High above the tree under which I stood, the clouds began to swirl and darken with a thunderous rage. The surrounding trees hissed and moaned as they pointed their branches at the songbird and I. A storm was swiftly brewing and focussing its fury upon my head. The gilded cage tossed and twirled as the winds intensified. More brittle brown leaves began pelting my face and forearms as forceful gusts tore at my shoulders and ankles. I could feel my breath becoming short.

"Come! Hurry!" called the songbird as she brushed my face with her wing.

I looked up and saw her flapping with all her might, darting past the hissing trees as she headed north. Though a blizzard of dead leaves, I followed her with one arm raised to shield my eyes. We fueled each other while the dark cloud above persisted in chasing us with its swirling wrath. I could hear it cocking a rifle full of thunder and lightning. As we zig-zagged across narrow rivers and through shallow forests, fearsome bolts rained upon our path. If Fate or some higher power was not on our side, we might have been slain in motion.

I had no idea how much time had passed before I felt a sudden chill in the air. The winds of the north making their presence known. It was at that moment that our long, hard journey to freedom and sanctuary came to an end. With one final fearsome roar of thunder, the dark cloud expressed its fleeting disapproval and then retreated to the south. As the songbird sang her praises, I fell down on my knees and whispered thanks to the heavens.

We both fed off the fruits of the land before us(our own garden of paradise) to restore our strength and then found a tree with strong, broad branches upon which we both could perch. There in the shade of the sun, the songbird and I became more friendly. We learned about each other extensively in a matter of hours which flew by with the sun. She asked my intentions. My plans for the future...with or without her. I blushed and made it obvious that I wanted her to remain with me without so many words. She chuckled cheerfully.

At sunset, I looked at her and confessed how such intimate chatting made me desire having someone to hug and kiss. It was a silly thought, talking to a bird. But, surprisingly, she admitted feeling the same way.

Suddenly, she shuddered(as if given a chill) and fell off her perch with a hoot. I sat up to watch her flutter just a few feet above the ground. She began to glow brightly while singing a shrill, fast-paced tune. Bursting into flames, a flaming glob of goo plopped on the ground. I leapt from my branch in shock.

Several tendrils stretched and twirled as the blob grew before me. It eventually took a human shape. A shape I could not deny was appealing. A fleshy woman with a head of long, flowing hair bursting with starlight and a warm, friendly smile just as bright. Her cheerful eyes twinkled with excitement.

Before I could find my next words, she threw her strong arms around me and planted a steamy kiss upon my wavering lips. I felt my nerves weakening as her tender bosom pressed against my non-existent pecs. It wasn't long before we were rolling on the ground together in the heat of the moment. Gratitude and bellies full of fruit fueled our passions. And, the sun smiled down upon us.

There was no guarantee this blissful entanglement would last forever. But, for the moment, it felt certain that happiness was secured. The spirit trapped within the songbird had been set free. And, wherever life would take us, we would no longer live in doubt or fear.

The Oppulent Songbird - Free At Last (Part 4)

I stood in disbelief of what had happened. The wind itself turning against me, preventing me from freeing the songbird of her cage. Even for just a moment. But, deep down, even I knew it would not be for just a moment. I wanted more. And, the wind knew, as well.

On a whim, I began pleading with the songbird. I peppered her with personal questions. I wanted answers. Answers that might put my uncertain concerns to rest. She tried to convince me that all was well with her situation. But, in my heart, I disagreed with every word she sang to me.

I could tell the wind sensed my frustration. It knew my intent and was starting to grow restless. Impatient. Intolerant.

I gave the songbird one last heartfelt thought. The burning question struck her breast like a flaming arrow. With that final effort, reason outweighed her premature contentment and childlike fears. Reason to escape her gilded prison. And, I once again made it my goal to free her.

Quickly, I reached up and repeatedly tore at the lock with my fingers(as if my own hand was all that was needed). But, it would not budge. The songbird told me it would not be enough. She chirped a shrill note high into the air which magically opened the prison door and allowed her to fly free.

High above the tree under which I stood, the clouds began to swirl and darken with a thunderous rage. The surrounding trees hissed and moaned as they pointed their branches at the songbird and I. A storm was swiftly brewing and focussing its fury upon my head. The gilded cage tossed and twirled as the winds intensified. More brittle brown leaves began pelting my face and forearms as forceful gusts tore at my shoulders and ankles. I could feel my breath becoming short.

"No!" cried the songbird as she watched me weaken against the strong wind's wrath. I could hear her pleading with the storm. Begging it to stop. Then she took off high into the sky like a bolt of lightning returning to the heavens from which it came.

[Kra-KOOM-OOM-OOMMM!!!]

Suddenly, there were TWO lightning bolts fighting each other. With each mighty collision, the sky crackled and rumbled with fury before a shrill cry briefly silenced the storm.

The battle ensued for what felt like hours. Then, just as the winds ceased to whip across my face and I remembered to breathe, the dark clouds began to part. I assumed the wind had admitted defeat and fled the scene in shame, licking its wounds. The storm had ended. And, riding a ray of light, a brilliant star descended upon the Earth. As it came within a few feet of my face, I could see the songbird once more.

Though I never saw a bird smile, she was surely smiling at me. She thanked me for helping her see the light and find the strength to start a life of her own without the Southern Wind confining her to the gilded cage. Then, she flew up to the top of the tree and perched upon one of the smaller branches. There she sang a cheerful song. A song of victory and freedom. The surrounding trees, awed by the display, raised their branches to the sky and swayed happily in step with the music.

I was happy to see her free. But, deep down, I knew the feeling would not last. I sensed she would leave me soon and seek the life of her own she had been denied for so long. I tried to freeze the smile upon my face as I basked in the light of the sun. Forced to squint and look away, I felt a tightness in my neck. I massaged the pain long enough to feel a gentle touch press against my cheek. A kiss. The light above slowly faded. Raising my head swiftly, I noticed the bird had vanished from atop the tree. I was alone.

It took me some time to leave the scene. But, as I headed home, I could hear a voice whispering in the wind. It said, "Thank you." And, though she had left me to find another soul to love, I cracked a tearful smile.

Paper

When looking at a plain, white piece of paper the thought that runs through our mind is that it looks so innocent. It’s thin, but in the same breathe its sturdy. It is here to serve a purpose; it is strong enough to embrace the heavy pressing of a pen. It is strong enough to let someone scribble, write or draw what they want to, without this papers consent. We continue to look at this paper, we hold it between our index finger and our thumb and we flap this paper up and down, realizing how thin this paper really is. We think this paper can handle anything, and so we hold it up and focus on the centre.

Slowly the centre of this sheet starts to turn a light shade of grey, which then develops into a yellow tinge. Strange, how this one plain white sheet didn’t even need something tangible to taint it. As we continue to stare at the designs this taintedness takes, our mind wonders in awe and we begin to notice the centre turning a charcoal black. The flame which creeps up and licks the paper as a hungry demon is unstoppable, yet so beautiful that when it starts to engulf the centre of the paper I notice my undivided attention is no longer for the paper, but now, for the flames.

It feels like that in life, in this moment. We are born into this world a white piece of paper and though we might appear to be clean and innocent at the start, through the progression of our lives we slowly become tainted. We start to receive the smoke that everyone hands to us and we as the paper shape that smoke, to create a design on us that we think best describes who we are and what we represent.

But like each piece of individual paper, we can only handle so much smoke. When we give up on wanting to be this strong, white piece of paper and allow the smoke to continue to do what it will to us, we find it progresses into something sharper. The smoke gets so use to our average reaction of just shaping it into something beautiful and positive, that it retaliates and starts hitting us where we hurt. Once the first flicker of that flame touches the smooth paper, the door to allowing the growth to spread has been opened. A lot of papers let this flame continue to bite at them, without wanting to fight, without wanting to stop the spreading of this luminous orange glow. And then eventually, for those poor white, innocent pieces of paper there is nothing left of them, they are consumed. There is nothing left to fight for and no chance left to change them into what they were originally made for.

For other pieces of paper there comes a moment, when that one biting flicker of a flame reaches up to lick that tainted edge, when all of a sudden  the paper shudders and moves. The door that would have been opened has now not had the chance, but has been firmly sealed shut. The smoke that has covered this piece of paper in so many designs has hardened the paper in such a way that it will no longer allow the flames to come near and open up the hurt in which it so desperately wants. This piece of tainted paper has a fighting chance to still be used for the purpose it was created.

Which paper are you?