I feel like I can touch the sky, or the clouds on few days,
And Crumble down to the core on few others.
But but only when I'm crumbling to the core, wailing in that melancholy, drenching in the gray, I question
What is life? What is life?
Looking at the stars, I wonder, why do they burn?
More importantly, for who?
That entirety is Just a chemical reaction, isn't it?
……...
I take a walk in the garden once in a while on snowy days, A grey haired couple walkby, holding hands, sit on the bench next to mine. "Love is in the air" I think to myself, 'Just a chemical reaction it is, isn't it?'
Stars burn for several billion years, give hope and life, and then die, taking the life they gave birth to, along with them. Isn't it the most tragic ending? Just like our life and love.Tragic yet poetic.
Or maybe all tragedies are poetic.
……...
I resist the urge to stare at the old couple next to me and take a glance only once in a while. Holding a glitching hope in my heart that if I follow their actions and movements, maybe one day, I can find the same love as them. So, I carefully observe what they are doing.
He's knitting, it still hasn't taken its complete form yet, hmm, looks like a muffler. She's writing something in the newspaper, doing a crossword puzzle maybe.
'Is it that simple? I mean, Love, that subtle?'
……….
Stars die. Some end up as a giant cloud of stardust- A Nebula, Some a Neutron star, Some a Black hole. And life ends too, A different ending customised for everyone, Some endings meaningful, some unfathomable, and some in between.
I don't want to romanticize the concept of tragedies, but Aren't happy endings overrated?
Is it even possible for such a concept to exist? How can the ending of a beautiful something be happy? If it's not ending at all, why are they called so? Why are we so obsessed with happy endings? Why am I?
……...
He gets up from the bench and starts to walk, maybe he's taking a stroll in the garden. She's still focused on her crossword puzzle, maybe I should go and help her complete it. No, no, I'm too much of an introvert to even talk to people. Starting a conversation is a question out of syllabus.
I look around. Cherry blossoms everywhere, that betoken the end of winter and reveal the first blush of spring. I sigh as the winter is about to end. It's easy to cover the scars in winter clothes. In summer, it's almost impossible to go unnoticed wearing full sleeves and turtlenecks.
He came back with a few pebbles in his hand. Aqua, teal, gray, fuchsia, and few more exotic colored pebbels. Patting her on the arm, he tries to get her attention, but she's too keen on solving that puzzle.
I giggle.
He calls out, " Maria, here, see what I got you"
Adjusting her glasses, she looks up, and he hands over the pebbles to her. I wish I had a better view of this entire thing so I could capture this moment more clearly. But I can feel the excitement of them both.
'Over pebbles? I questioned myself. Over something that trivial. Is this all what love is about?'
They both are smiling at each other, like a young couple hanging out for the first time on a date.
Their hair greyed but their love for each other didn't.
……...
Then it hit me.
And In awe of my newfound wisdom, I shout to the stars -
" Life isn't all about the big things, it's more the compound effect of small trivial and trifle things, that define us. We are so lost in trying big, achieving big, living big that we stop being happy unless and until we do something big. Because we think we deserve happiness only when something is done. But No, that's a big No. Each and everyone of us deserve happiness, even if we suck at achieving big. Of course we should have bad and sad times, but they should only increase our appreciation of the small beautiful things- like your perfect morning coffee, the blooming of the small plant you were parenting, the hearty smile of a stranger, that butterflies in your stomach when someone you like looks at you, all these trivial things matter as well.
You know, we are made up of starstuff right.
We are nothing but atoms and molecules of a dead star, with the privilege of the ability to feel and store memories. So maybe we should feel as much as possible and make as many memories as possible, until the day we can't."
I shout these lines out load, hoping someone in this universe would listen or atleast the stars, the last hope of the possible future, I say these lines, in the hope that, maybe the atoms of the star would listen and the next evolution of an intelligent being is actually worth it, unlike ours.
" Scarlett, What are you doing here!?" Someone's familiar voice comes out loud from behind the bushes.
" Nothing. I'm just watching this old couple on the bench next to mine."
" Miss Rose, I'm sorry to say this. But there's no one there. We need to go back to your room now. It's time to take your medications. Recreation time is over." Said the nurse.
-THE END-