It's not only the smell of flowers that tingle my heart,
Not only the sight of rainbow or touch of love,
It's all about the things which reach the untouched parts of the heart,
All those things that go unnoticed without distinguished attention.
It might be sight of an old and small house,
Representing how one can be content with just that,
Or the smell of those ancient trees,
That represent my childhood.
It might be the sight of an old broken building,
Making me wonder as my heart races,
Thinking what it was like when people lived here,
And was it fated to be where it is now.
It is also the smell of the dust on old books,
Or the smell that dwells in abandoned ancient buildings,
As they pass through different times,
Silently overlooking our actions as we did.
It is the sight of the clear summer skies,
As they nonchalantly unfold in front of me,
As I open my arms to greet the free winds,
Like standing on the edge of a cliff ready to take my leap of freedom.
Not just the summer skies but also the monsoon ones,
They dim the sun rays but light up the spirits of my soul,
With the low hanging clouds,
Not always does the sun helps you calm your heart,
Sometimes all you need is darkness.
It might be the smell of the rain,
Makes me feel like am at the bottom of the sea,
As the raindrops rush past me,
I can see every moment stretched out before me,
And for those moments I feel tranquility such never before experienced.
It is the cool touch of water of a rushing rivulet,
The sounding sound as it splashes against the pebbles,
The water is always so clear,
I feel i could just wash my soul off all the impurities,
Emerging with a more clear perspective.
It is also the ability to be able to express myself through art,
Sometimes it's better to show than to speak,
Cause for some feelings to flow easily,
I need something different,
Cause unaware as I am of it that they even existed.
Or sitting in the attic with old photos in hand,
In between tears and smile as I remember the old times,
But then the reality dawns on me,
Nothing is left of those events or feelings,
Other than these tattered papers,
But the belief they are immortalized in my heart makes me smile once again.
Or feeling of tranquility when am with myself,
Those are the moments that give me a chance,
To know myself even deeper,
Love myself deeper.
I can feel am getting addicted to it,
But is it that bad to be attracted to my own soul?
My very own foundation?
