Stream of Consciousness

Some nights are blessings we could not foresee, coming upon us least expected but oh so welcome. They fall over you like sluices of the cleanest water. They remind you how much joy hides in the banalities. Did you know that coffee has the power to heal your soul? Or that the evening breeze carries within it the secret of secret flight? The palm trees in front of my balcony are old Sufis. Wise in their silences and joyous in their sway and their rustle. Blessings they are, friends I will have to say goodbye to soon as I have to move apartments soon. Don't want to, because this one felt like home, felt like an old friend's hand on your face. But c'est la vie you see? Onwards I shall dance, like a dervish in a rave, teaching people what dancing can do if you let your soul have the use of your legs for a moment.

I love you life. And I love you girl. You heal me by being, you are the magic in this world. Your smile is my most pressing ambition, your eyes are my nighttime sky. I wanted to burn down forests to dry away your tears. I'm sorry but that you might truly love me was the sum of all my fears. I'm sorry for the confusion, I'm sorry for all the unnecessary pain. I can't honestly promise I won't ever do it again. But you lift me to the Moon darling and can drive me to my knees. You made me stare at my Puja room idols and all my prayers start with 'please'. Life taught me everything but how to love a woman like you. Not that I couldn't or didn't long to. But I thought I wasn't anywhere near ready. I thought that happened later, when you were tired of the running around, lying gasping by the street. Someone would come and dust away the tracks of your tears, and lift you to your feet. I wasn't ready for Love to come upon me like the other car in an accident about to happen.

But here we are. There you are. Here I sit. Approaching the heart of the other with every breath. I love that this Dance has begun. I love that I get to dance this dance with you. I love that you know this. The palm trees smile indulgently at us. The wind whispers the secret and lets us take our first flight. And even this ugly city smiles, leaning in the corner like the oldest whore, who would have made a great mother, rubbing the sores of the usual out of her back.

Last cup of tea for the day, burning my sins away. Leaving me with nothing on my tongue but ginger and the aftertaste of honey, and it reminds me of you. Everything reminds me of you. And I'm a happy happy man.