A Mortal On An Immortal Bridge.

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“Is this your first breath there, or is it your last here?

Who has written your story? Do you know your story? “

I’ll put on a coat now, I’ll tell you stories now.

You could walk with me if you like or turn away

Either way is just fine.

Beneath my coat you won’t find a dress,

Because I’m a perfect mess.

My sweater and my jeans comfort me. Keep me warm.

On the banks of the river, I shall walk.

The trees are giving away,

The leaves now grow old, gracefully.

Red, as though the lord had put in a little bit of fire in them.

They shall burn, they shall give light.

All before they let go.

Of themselves, of forgetting their names.

Someone will take over, they have to.

The bridge will still stand, strong. People will walk.

The benches and public phones will stay.

They’ll always lead to the Eiffel.

Like the bridges in our life. They’ll lead us to where we belong.

Sit under that tree, oh! It’s beautiful.

“Linden”; It’s name.

Every step on that path shouts love and purity.

That’s how our lives should feel.

You, your loved one(s)

Happiness. Purity.

Beauty. Eternal love.

Sit on that bench,

Upon your head will you see, the tree smiling at you

Guarding you, protecting you

Like your innocence, and childhood.

As though it’s blessing you.

Its leaves the shape of a heart.

God’s the best writer,

You don’t have to have a private plane,

And you don’t have to have a grand wedding.

It’s all there.

Nature has it all, laid out for you.

Life’s not a burden, it’s not a game.

He sent you down, to be a part of him.

To marvel at his works of perfection,

The one we, mortals would never create.

Sit there, look at that river

Breathe.

Breathe the air that brings life

Not the one that causes cancer.

He may not be your soul mate,

He may not be your brother,

Not even your father.

She may not be your sister,

Maybe not your mother,

But embrace them,

Embrace them all.

Those who stand by you, hold their hand.

Take a while,

Walk with them.

Not in metro’s, not in the office, not on Skype

But in real life.

Feel the touch of human skin,

The supple creation, designed to comfort.

How does it feel?

To know you have the warmth on the cold winter night?

Maybe that’s why this road was made,

Probably why it was never the same.

Maybe the leaf of the tree over your head will eventually fall,

And tree will one day have new leaves,

But it will always.

Life goes on.

And it’s okay to sit there, pamper yourself

Let the tree and its leaves heal you,

To hold the hand of those you love,

Before your journey ends,

Till you reach your destination.

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Getting to the core- Neurotic Writers Diary- Page 5

images (2)They’ll wait for you patiently,

People however patient. It’s these small things, they hurt you.

You don’t have to be physically hurt  someone to make them feel detached, low and lost.

Love is a bridge, the one you have to build and trust it’s material. It’s authenticity.

The stronger, the finer and purer, more the love. But, does it end there? We wish it did.

Every one of us despite our ethics, our backgrounds, our religions and our principles are born to love.

We’re hungry for it. You in your very core know that.

We can hide it and never show it, but you can’t escape the fact.

To physically survive man needs food and shelter.

To emotionally survive, love is the only cure.

 

 Notes-  Getting to the core is another series of my writings, where the questions and answers of introspection are typed down. According to me, they are the most important part of being anything; introvert or an extrovert. To ask yourself questions, to ask yourself where you belong, your identity, you sanity. You don’t need to wait for the day when you’ve lost all that you had and you have to visit a psychiatrist  Because he/she does not have the answers; you do.  I hope these little notes of questions, and my neurotic diary continues to be read if not by you then by me. To remind myself, of me.