Letters to Life: Letters written to a lost life

Unanswered questions 2

dear life,
you gave my existence a meaning, a definition. now that we are apart, i no longer belong here.

i am falling. do i belong to the rain that, with its tapping sound on the rooftops, reminds this brooding insomniac that she is not the only one descending? or am i just a short-lived felicity of the petrichor?

do i belong to the effulgent moon who borrows its brightness from the sun? or am i the borrowed brightness myself? or do i belong to those dark spots on the full moon that taint it? or to that part of the crescent moon which is always hidden?

am i that demure plum wildflower hidden behind the myriad of wilder ones? or that fully blossomed nefarious black rose which hides a plethora of thorns inside of it? or do i belong to that rose as one of its thorns? or to the fragrance of orchids? or am i a fragile ephemeral lilting dandelion?

do i belong to that endless journey which makes one long for home, even if that home has never been? or to the destination which puts an end to it?

do i belong to that beguiling melancholy before the storm? or to the rhapsodic silence after, which no one dares to break?

do i belong to the footprints on the sand? or am i their weightless grains, unnoticed?

do i belong to dense unexplored forests? or to the soft sunlight flittering through the trees? or am i the unheard, misunderstood, mellifluous whispers of those lurking in the woods?

i am all those leap days that never happened. i am all the abandoned moments that cannot match the pace of time. i am a misspelled word in a forgotten book, trapped beneath the pile of others. a neglected gap between successive breaths. a wasteful pinch of salt in freshwater.

that is why i am fading, so that i can be where i belong, unseen, unheard, unfelt, mysterious, empty.

longing for the sweet scent of mere existence.