Doesn’t she look happy dancing in the rain with a heart so gay and young? With a face like that of an angel, and the floating gracefulness of a goddess, her own feet unaware of where she might put them next; she could perhaps be the luckiest in the world!
Like a wild flower in full bloom, oh, how she fills the air around her with the aroma and affect of her. How the stars sparkle in her presence and the earth stops to the rhythm of her steps! And how everything, in an unseen felt way, bows down to her—in respect of her happiness!
See how she flutters her wings and holds out her arms to fill in the falling rain in the cups of her palms, and then brings it to her lips to drink from it; as if it were a divine goblet! Or an elixir, pouring which will quench her deep thirst, and free her of all that torments her soul…
But it scares me to see her so, and I can’t really explain what I find unfitting in this picture. Maybe it’s in her eyes… which are grayer than the sky above her, or her laughter which doesn’t quite seem real. There is something in her tone that hints betrayal, something about her shadow that keeps dissolving minute by minute.
‘She must be a carrier of love’ is what I thought of her before. But maybe, as I now realize, it’s an injury better than that. Maybe, as her façade weakens and reality takes over, we won’t find a trace of what we see now. And for all they will know, she would be a girl who died dancing!
Aala ♥
Divinely sweetest and beautiful is SHE in your nectar drunk words. I am just amazed at the soulburst…………cannot contain the burst. Re-read this…………..i dont know what it is but something has definitely struck the rusted chords of mine. I cannot say I love this………….because the emotion is much more and above this. May be because…………it is the rain, the soul, the dance, the love, the pain……….which are all my dearest. Stay blessed! 🙂
I love your comment, beautiful soul!
Thank you for reading and understanding it. Also for letting me know what you thought of this.
Means a lot to me. 🙂
My Pleasure. Stay Blessed!
Wow, you really have a gift. What a great piece. And what a befitting title. It makes me think about masks. How so many people wear masks that look beautiful, but they’re covering up the real person that they are. Sad.
🙂
Thank you so very much for your kind comment, stacilys! I am really glad you like it. 🙂 It is sad indeed, how many people wear and live with masks that look beautiful, and sadder it is when they die with these.
Very sad indeed.
🙂
‘She must be a carrier of love’ is what I thought of her before. But maybe, as I now realize, it’s an injury better than that.— one of the best lines I have read in a very long time. You are graduating from being a writer to a full-fledged artist, a creator of written sculptures.
Sir,
Thank you so much. This means a whole lot to me! 🙂
An adorable piece, I must say! ❤
OK. Don’t panic.
I’m trained in handling such emergencies.
First you need to maintain quarantine. No one is to go near her unless it’s absolutely necessary.
Definitely keep friends away. Family members can carry out necessary duties as they will have built up a natural resistance to it. Mothers-in-law are particularly immune to contagion.
Everyone must wear appropriate protective clothes, especially her. Armor from head to foot, covered in spikes and barbed wire and plastered with images of local politicians are most effective at repelling love infections.
Keep an eye out for indications of contagion. Misty eyes, sighing, expressions of warmth. All are signs of incipient pathology requiring immediate prophylactic treatment. A large dose of epsom salts followed by repeated readings from Franz Kafka and Harold Pinter for at least eight hours a day until all symptoms of love disappear.
You need to get on top of this ASAP. Love is a very serious mental illness that has been linked to youth suicide since at least the time of Shakespeare. Left untreated it can progress to marriage. In this country only 50% of marriages are cured by divorce with the remainder ending in death. Love can also cause birth, which is 100% fatal.
Hahaha.
Protective clothing – check
Distance from people – check
Epsom salts; Kafka and Pinter EIGHT HOURS A DAY- oh.
“Only the deaf can hear and the blind can understand
The miles I gabble.
Through these my dances of dunce and devil,
It’s only the dumb can speak through the rubble.
Time shall drop his spit in my cup,
With this vicious cut he shall close my trap. ”
^ Just started, see. :3
Loved reading your comment. ❤
And how glad I am to finally find out there really is a cure to this ‘serious, mental illness’! Was losing all hope, you see. But looks like you’re actually trained in handling such..um..emergencies.
P.S. It should get published somewhere. Would definitely help keeping youth away from suicide— something happening since at least the time of Shakespeare!
missed your beautiful write ups and comments on my blogs. glad to find you:) cheers
Ma’am, thank you so much for visiting! Reminded me of those days when I was teaching a kid and you had encouraged me with your comments. 🙂 Will surely visit your blog, missed reading from you! Wassalam:)
thank you for prompt response:) cheers!
Maria.. the carrier of love always dies dancing you see…almost always to others tunes…
your writings…i am reading them one after another from the past half an hour..and you seem..u, like ‘this’ carrier of love…
are you alright. Inbox me wat is shareable 😦
im worried.
I am fine. ❤
It rained heavily on the night of August 1. It doesn't rain very often here, so when it does it just 'does' something. 🙂
"the carrier of love always dies dancing you see…almost always to others tunes…" that struck. It's so painfully true.
Thank you, Pamela, for reading and for your words. Meant a whole lot to me!
And yours mean to me too 🙂