The Last Letter

I miss what I had, though I've had what I miss, I've had to miss what I had, since war took me away. No pencil can write darkly enough to match my mood without you, the lead is in me now anyway, and a pen will have to do. I have uncapped the only way I can reach you, a cold hollow tube, with a reservoir of blackest ink, leaked slowly like tears upon these blank sheets far smaller then we used to share.

I once believed that ten teams of wild horses could never pull me away from you,but even wilder men have succeeded. Thousands of miles separate our lips from pressing passion like fine wine, into intoxicating bliss. Your picture is bloodstained and creased, but buttoned up tightly in my fatigues; it carried me through many ungodly images of mayhem.

I want you to know only sweetness, your love like a perfumed scarf, kept the stench of death from becoming unendurable here. Your letters have been my voice of sanity amidst cries of agony. I only wish that I could bring you the kind of peace they claim we are dying for, but this will be my last bulletin to you, because there is a bullet in me. It was a hollow point, and always will be, but it imploded amidst my intestines, and I am dying I love you more then breath itself, and so in your honor,
and for the glory of our homeland, I will soon give it up. Remember me in the wee hours of the mourn, when you are a housewife, with cuddly babies dreaming in cradles,
and a lucky son of a non gun bearing man, snoozing next to you.

Think fondly of what could have been, without regret, for I was meant to be part of the sacrifice that love requires men to make. I will dance with death, and pretend it is you, as we waltz into the darkness or the light. I am growing tired now, allow me to dream of you, of your gentle touch, come to me there when you are sad and world weary, and I will wait for you. Our dreams live on in the sighs of those more fortunate; the box awaits me, where bones will dream amidst the dust of sleep beyond all waking. I take your memories with me, my most precious possession, keep mine
in a small corner of your soul, and perhaps we can scrapbook them together in heaven someday.

Farewell , I must close my eyes now as well as this letter.
I love you, beyond all that ever was, or will be, there is nothing more
to say, but that even as remains, I will remain............

Magic!

Magic!

Magic one…my home refrigerator a hidden domain. When I was 5, I used to think that there exists another world inside that closed door… often wonder what’s in when the door gets closed, does the light still glows?

Magic two…my dad’s strength, when I was 10. To solve all my problems in a fraction of time, be it my bruises while playing football or drawing my science project at 12 in the night. My first hero, My morpheous. Will he be there, always?

Magic three…my cricket team. When I was 14, a revel’s magic till date. Me getting into the school cricket team, playing for interschool…I felt proud as my bus turned up for my final match. I had the feeling to jump high and engulf the air in my palms, ’been there done that’. Will I ever reach for the sky again?

Magic four… my first flight when I was 17, by far my best magic till date. Though I was grown enough to be a kid n shout as those morbid wings suddenly bustle up into life swooshing me into the power of flight. I felt free, in all senses. Will I ever fly again …deep inside my heart?

Magic five….my first crush. When I was 18, it was the ‘d day’ for me. Dreamland where I used to be, a virtual submission to my thoughts. A life wrinkle free, unheld, unbreakable. A hidden world of fishy smiles, and then, one fine day the magic died…will there be life again?

Magic six…my first drive. I was 19, freedom in my soul. Long roads, avenues touching my car top. Enthralled I was. It was then when I met my passion, my interest for the first time. My love for driving, there weren’t any fireworks over my head. It was just me with my freedom, to drive away “So far so good”. Will I set for another freedom any day anywhere?

Magic seven…my first night gaze. Looking at the farthest of farthest lights I see Cassiopeia ‘the cluster of love’. A bundle of stars which is mythical and known after a farmer’s wife who discovers it on the night of her lovers death and the one who happens to get a glimpse of it, is said to be the prince of heaven. At 3 in the night, with tears in my eyes. I turned 20… will I ever feel that way?

Magic eight…a dream, waking up in the middle of the night. Walking across a white sand beach, alone and violent. I was screaming; don’t know for what or for whom. I turned 21 that day and since then it’s a vivid dream I cannot forget. It was close to a nightmare for it scared me and I realized all magic’s aren’t beautiful…will I ever b able to forget it?

Magic nine… my Ma, forgiving me for horrid things, struggling with all her ailments and challenging fate, that she can win her destiny her way. Which I wouldn’t have ever if I would have been her, a power in herself. A magic forever…will I be ever her?

Magic ten…yesterday…a realization. That life isn’t a fantasy world inside a refrigerator. Because light, doesn’t glows each time a door is ajar. Sometimes the doors open up to a darker destination, and you are all alone...when you are the second choice, When u have turned out to be the one u never wanted to be, when u do things which u know u will regret or may be just, when the one u love.. Doesn’t loves u. it’s a magic half dead, and no matter how much you are broken, you still gaze at the closed door and wish if someday it opens up….u might see the ray of light…may it be a dream, u just wish… will there be magic again?

But still the show goes on…and u keep revising the first lesson of your life…and that’s to fight till u come over it. Cause risk is thy name to living. When one learns how to risk, one learns how to live.

“Mom says Life is a box of chocolate, u never know what’s in store unless u open it up…Forest Gump”