We all fall down

It’s been a cold, sleepy day. The voice of the rain are calming down all the storms within. She is thinking while chewing on the nib of her pen, shaking it in between her fingers in mid-air while taking pauses in between, careful enough not to let the ink spread on her lips. Her eyes glare through the thin air above her into eternity in a way as if they are enchanted by the beauty of something which is the most beautiful.

 

Suddenly, her dreamy eyes spread wide with the thought that strikes her. Her lips curl into a smile. Her eyelashes make her gleaming eyes fall down on the paper settled on the table before her. She pens down:

“The beauty of all that’s fallen

Is a pleasant sight to behold

There’s warmth inside the emotions

All of which fall calm and cold”

She smiles as she puts her pen down. She feels the velvety bed beneath her figure and the strain in her muscles as she stretches her legs out. Indeed, to sit while writing for six hours straight makes ones legs freeze. As her eyelashes lift, her memories, suppressed until then, flash in front of her eyes. She recalls about when she had poured her heart out to someone who thrashed and crushed it into pieces, about when she was doomed and started doubting herself, about when she shattered and then recollected herself into a whole again and smiled.

Her eyelashes glare up doubly in subtle fashion. As she tilts her head dreamily towards the left, her long, thick hair falls from her shoulder softly and settles on her left. She stands frozen, still holding the pen in mid-air in her right hand, as if she is mesmerized by something that only she can see in the nothingness before her. She silently searches, as it appears, to quench her yearning for an answer to the chaos in her head.

“Alas! when tired with holding up

Our fatal pride and crown,

Overburdened with emotions to purge, 

Heavily we all fall down”.

 

Entire night, she dreams—with her eyes open— about intermingling her future with her past, wondering how different would her past have been only if it would have taken place in her future. She recalls how she cried when she was pressed on thinking about whether her decisions were right according to the people and how numb was she when she was left alone to tackle with the consequences when those turned out to be totally undesired. How they made her stronger and more beautiful. She grinned while scribbling:

“For my heart to beat and breathe

It has to fall down and rise up

For when the line falls flat and straight

It is the start of a journey to above”.

 

 

 


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