How does one write to you? You, of unending bends and innumerable veils? You, of many curves and lengthy straights? When the bend gives in to a distance of forward concrete and white lines bordering the sides, you become the friend one banks upon. You, who projects a million hopes, admiration and delight. You. I am wondering about the panic of this letter, not knowing which bend to deliver it to. You, so capably many.
Your very being creates an explosion of 'how' in my mind. Of how you come into being out of nowhere and then become this impossible presence without whom there is no further. Of how you are taken for granted as if you always were. Yes, you remind me of a woman of the house, who comes in new and then becomes the all in all, in one swift go. It is sad to believe that you are conjectured as someone who will always deliver, in whatever attire. Such towering expectations, such petty complains but never enough heartfelt appreciation. Whether sitting pretty, or performing efficiently, you are the one without whom the wheels malfunction. You in your little ways of grand.
Did you ever feel this way? I assume no. We women are not accustomed to believing the world of ourselves. But you are, trust me. It is a worldly woman's word. I feel so happy to find you on certain stretches, inviting in pretty green reflectors, as much utilitarian even when ornate. The church bells are resounding in the valley bringing back to the routined consciousness that it is a Sunday morning. Sunday, a holiday. Mine ends, thus not mine. Certainly not yours too.
Till we meet the next time I had to tell you that all that you try and reach out to me for, I listen. I understand and I feel. You evoke a sense of marvel. And you better be aware of it. A subtle consciousness is required. Once you do, you will glow from within. You need to. You will :) Love.
Happy Women's Day, you!
K.
Your very being creates an explosion of 'how' in my mind. Of how you come into being out of nowhere and then become this impossible presence without whom there is no further. Of how you are taken for granted as if you always were. Yes, you remind me of a woman of the house, who comes in new and then becomes the all in all, in one swift go. It is sad to believe that you are conjectured as someone who will always deliver, in whatever attire. Such towering expectations, such petty complains but never enough heartfelt appreciation. Whether sitting pretty, or performing efficiently, you are the one without whom the wheels malfunction. You in your little ways of grand.
Did you ever feel this way? I assume no. We women are not accustomed to believing the world of ourselves. But you are, trust me. It is a worldly woman's word. I feel so happy to find you on certain stretches, inviting in pretty green reflectors, as much utilitarian even when ornate. The church bells are resounding in the valley bringing back to the routined consciousness that it is a Sunday morning. Sunday, a holiday. Mine ends, thus not mine. Certainly not yours too.
Till we meet the next time I had to tell you that all that you try and reach out to me for, I listen. I understand and I feel. You evoke a sense of marvel. And you better be aware of it. A subtle consciousness is required. Once you do, you will glow from within. You need to. You will :) Love.
Happy Women's Day, you!
K.
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