“Now, who drew the curtains of mist in the air?” I asked, mockingly. He laughed and ran away, leaving a trail of drops in his wake and blinding me in fog. He had come as usual, a bit early this year. But he did come as he had promised to. He never broke his promises. After all, he was my friend.
“How can you play such lovely music?”
“I don’t play it; I just retrieve what is already there. I just give sound to that which is already there, but is yet unheard.” He said, rustling the leaves of the tree nearby, a rare to hear sound which could not even be created on the synthesizer how ever heard you tried.
“And how can you be so generous when we do nothing for you?”
“You say you do nothing for me?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then you are wrong. You want me, which is the best thing you do. You love me, you hate me, and you despise me. But you acknowledge me as a part of your life. I cannot ask you for anything more than that. Had you not done so, tell me, would I have done anything for you? Would there have been any point in even coming here, be it to love you back or hate you back?”
I smiled. He went off, and showered upon me and others generously. I saw beads of water, like lovely dewdrops on the waves of the sea. The sky was clouded grey and the horizon was a lining of gold and silver. A bird flew by.
“Why are you no one’s?”
“Because I am everyone’s.”
“What?”
“I am everyone’s. But not anyone’s in particular. And I don’t want to be. I know that I cannot be anyone’s, because I am everyone’s.”
He was the only one who could never take the smile off my face once he had it there.
I started to run. He showered all the more. It was the experience of a lifetime to run in rhythm with his music and drizzle.
I stopped. Panting I asked, “Who are you? Tell me the truth.”
I could see him smiling this time.
“I am the one you never wanted but always wanted. I am the one you already have but you never saw. But when you did see, you could never let go. And now, it’s me you will always have.”
“I know. You are the music I become ecstatic to hear, the music that washes away all my sadness and the music that dampens my spirit at times. But when it does, it only makes me cheerful later. You are the music of the melancholy soul and of the silent lover. You are the music of the unconscious minds and of nature’s free spiritedness. You are my rhythmatically wet friend.”
“How can you play such lovely music?”
“I don’t play it; I just retrieve what is already there. I just give sound to that which is already there, but is yet unheard.” He said, rustling the leaves of the tree nearby, a rare to hear sound which could not even be created on the synthesizer how ever heard you tried.
“And how can you be so generous when we do nothing for you?”
“You say you do nothing for me?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then you are wrong. You want me, which is the best thing you do. You love me, you hate me, and you despise me. But you acknowledge me as a part of your life. I cannot ask you for anything more than that. Had you not done so, tell me, would I have done anything for you? Would there have been any point in even coming here, be it to love you back or hate you back?”
I smiled. He went off, and showered upon me and others generously. I saw beads of water, like lovely dewdrops on the waves of the sea. The sky was clouded grey and the horizon was a lining of gold and silver. A bird flew by.
“Why are you no one’s?”
“Because I am everyone’s.”
“What?”
“I am everyone’s. But not anyone’s in particular. And I don’t want to be. I know that I cannot be anyone’s, because I am everyone’s.”
He was the only one who could never take the smile off my face once he had it there.
I started to run. He showered all the more. It was the experience of a lifetime to run in rhythm with his music and drizzle.
I stopped. Panting I asked, “Who are you? Tell me the truth.”
I could see him smiling this time.
“I am the one you never wanted but always wanted. I am the one you already have but you never saw. But when you did see, you could never let go. And now, it’s me you will always have.”
“I know. You are the music I become ecstatic to hear, the music that washes away all my sadness and the music that dampens my spirit at times. But when it does, it only makes me cheerful later. You are the music of the melancholy soul and of the silent lover. You are the music of the unconscious minds and of nature’s free spiritedness. You are my rhythmatically wet friend.”
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