Come When The Heat of Noon Has Still Not Dimmed

2022-05-07

"Come. Come softly. Come when the heat of noon has still not dimmed. Come when the streets have stopped asking questions. Come when the world has left its own care to us. Come." In anticipation lies a whole universe. In the waiting lies the shape, the sound, the colour, the contour of beauty. In a world strewn with disappointments, of truths with no spine, and lies with fashionable make-up on, often the only solace lies in the wonder and the dream. A...

"Come.

Come softly.

Come when the heat of noon has still not dimmed.

Come when the streets have stopped asking questions.

Come when the world has left its own care to us.

Come."

In anticipation lies a whole universe. In the waiting lies the shape, the sound, the colour, the contour of beauty.

In a world strewn with disappointments, of truths with no spine, and lies with fashionable make-up on, often the only solace lies in the wonder and the dream. And particularly in love, anticipation is often the beginning, the glue, and the end. Particularly, as we wait...

Because in that hiatus of restless emptiness, our heart and mind have conversations, nay, battles. There are questions asked, doubts raised, admonishments given. With great rapidity, joy and misery tumble around in a struggle for supremacy - there’s nothing real, but everything seems real. We dread excuses, we anticipate excuses, we destroy excuses.

In a span of few moments - minutes - which have the jaggedness of hours, hearts are deciphered, conclusions are drawn, decisions are hewn into stony consciousness. But everything seems fragile.

And then the wait finishes. The nervousness melts. Questions are unquestioned. Answers no longer require stilts. There is light. There is air. Before it all ends, there is life.

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