End of Days

 

End of Days

So many things left unsaid… so many visions unrealized. And yet, a huge contentment settled upon her. For although she was on her death bed, her soul mate was right beside her, clasping her frail hand in both of his own, and letting his tears fall freely on that union of hands. But her eyes were bright, and her weak, exhausted smile, genuine. For, at the end of her days, she’d finally understood: that life was like a piece of art, on to which new details were added daily, but that never quite ever got finished.  And that, at this very last moment, only the highlights of her life mattered: the many shared long walks through many a nature trails, the many joyous birthday celebrations of herself and her soul mate, and those regular, still moments when both just gazed into each other’s eyes, without saying anything.

 

Life had been a grand, precious gift to her, and she had lived it to the fullest. She had often climbed to the highest heights of pure joy and exhilaration, where even angels would have wept in ecstasy. And she had also, every now and then, descended to the lowest echelons of sorrow, where only her soul mate could reach her, and pull her back up. But the world around had been vast, and multi-colored, and every new day had always brought with it new experiences, and new memories to hold on to. And she had realized, that life was full of nuances – so many shades, so many hues, so many delicate and fragile sentiments – and that all these only made it all, all the richer. Looking back at all that, she knew that her life, her piece of art – her fresco – was firmly etched into the aisles of time and history.

 

And now, as the curtains fell on her life, she made one last effort to talk to her soul mate. And she told him, in a surprisingly clear voice:

 

“It has been one wild but endearing ride, dear. Now promise me… promise me, that when I finally fade away, that you will not continue weeping, for I will no longer be able to wipe your tears away.”

Mind Flow: Part 2: The Flower Duet

Flower Duet

 

“Dôme épais, le jasmine

à la rose s’assemble,

rive en fleurs, frais matin

nous appellent ensemble …”

 

Like a sound mite, that section of the opera keeps playing over and over and over again in my mind, reminding me of the two elegant ladies that sang the wonderful piece, each lady belting out her part from her heart, as they narrated out the simple but profound French countryside tale,  and making everyone in the audience reminisce of a time in the past, when life was simpler, and had less concrete walls, but more live hedges, and when birds chirped more in the mornings, high atop all the many trees that dotted the countryside.

 

And you, you were with me in that opera, and you leaned over to me, and rested your head on my shoulder, and clasped my hands,  and had this dreamy look on your face, and I could tell that you too longed for that countryside life, where winds whistled through the pines, and the passerines did their murmurations in the evening skies, and the clouds themselves swirled and swooped and formed a million different shapes, all for our express joy and cheer, as we celebrated our inviolable partnership with mother nature: beautiful,  ever giving, ever kind mother nature.

 

Years have passed since that day in the opera, and so much has happened since, including us drifting apart, but I truly hope that if you ever go into an opera again, and listen to “The flower duet”, that you’ll remember me, and the countryside,  and the simple beauties of beholding and experiencing nature, and that, like a fluttering butterfly,  you’ll skip over daisies,  and dip into a thousand flowers, and be one with nature, again.

Mind Flow: Part 1: Bergamot Scent

Mind flow part one - Bergamot Scent

 

There were some bergamot notes in the air – so rich and sweet – and they reminded me of you and the many idyllic, magical evenings we spent together, by the fireside, just staring at the crackling flames, and rarely saying anything to each other, at least not vocally, for our minds were in synch, and we could read a thousand words off each other’s eyes from just a simple glance, and our mutual smiles would light up each other’s faces, and paint our futures in brilliant,  vivid hues, and the hope and the joy and the exuberance would be overwhelming because nothing seemed impossible then and no single vision for the future looked out of reach as long as we stuck together.

 

Wherever you are right now, whatever you are doing nowadays,  if you ever sniff that same bergamot scent, I hope you’ll remember me too, and that you’ll ponder on that part of our past, so vividly etched in the mind – a past worth reliving,  over and over again – and drawing a smile from, for it was a phase in our mutual lives when the green meadows of Arcadia… when Utopia itself, was at hand, and we lived in it, and breathed it, and laughed in it, and THRIVED in it.

 

Do remember this.