By Vinish C Nair
Every morning brought me new energy
Gold grains sprinkled over my face
Even the winds waited for me at doorstep,
Eager to lead me to the horizon.
The paddy fields shone like molten dreams,
Each blade of grass stood with a promise of glory.
I walked barefoot through the paths of fire,
Calling each horizon mine.
The world was young then,
And so was I –
I was proud not to know that light could wound.
The rivers sang their folk songs,
And I ran beside them, believing they were following me.
Every drop of sweat felt sacred,
A medal for my efforts.
Every gust of wind –
A joyful friend, unseen but faithful.
I thought the sky had opened just for me,
Its blue was my canvas, vast and limitless
Its clouds my flying thoughts.
Dreams were ripe like mangoes; the gift of summer,
Their sweetness dripping into afternoon laughter.
But amidst the songs of the cicadas,
A soft silence lived on—
A reminder I could not yet hear.
The heat grew every moment,
The shadows shrank;
Every joy began to sweat.
The mirage I was chasing
Turned dust at my feet.
Still, I continued—
Because I thought life is to keep running,
And slowness was just death.
As the sun started to fade at dusk, leaving a deep red,
I returned to the path—
Long, bright, beautiful—
I realized that it had burned out every grass beneath my feet.
The wind that had once chased me—now whispered differently:
“Every fire awaits its own rain.”
As the light dissolved into twilight shadows,
I started to feel a strange calmness in my heart—
A rare realization –
The first acceptance that all emotions must one day rest.
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