Saudade

3.

The silken sky woven with the midnight's bleak blue threads. Black spreading across it like an ink spill. The clouds missing, seemingly have flown to deliver the sweetest of dreams to the undeserving. An occasional star glimmers in my vision like a diamond surprisingly stumbled up on in a road of mere coal blocks. The ice cold, sharp wind streaks across my face, leaving it numb. Wind numbs my blood. Silence numbs my soul. It is that deadly hour when all creatures and plants and even ghouls are lulled into sleep by the soft gleams of moonlight. It is at such an unearthly hour that I reveal my mask.

I love myself then. I am raw, true and truly myself. I sing like a drunkard, with a hoarse, scratchy voice, lost in his own worrisome thoughts but not with a care of what the world would judge of him. I relish the heaviness in my heart. The freezing air penetrates it like a knife driven right into the chest. Each step of mine grows drearier. But my mind is as clear as the night itself. I become a wanderer of the old. His blessing is his very curse. He has seen too much that he can't but feel everything in abundance. Folks call him a lunatic but his love, like Mother Luna, is complex to admire - a rock for many but the sole hope of their soul for a few. I love myself then. Not a soul cares in all daylight but in at unholy hour, not a soul judges. Needy of relief I might be. But that seldom is delivered in the world today. But I pray that I do not become a victim of unfelt sympathy, hidden envies, broken promises and inevitable subjection. I complain, rant, scream and cry. No one listens. They never do, be it day or night. But the night is more special as it does not judge.

It makes me feel human. It makes me feel true. It makes me feel alive. It lets me feel. I feel what I want to without the worries of hurting someone, burdening someone or hurting myself. The agony let out breaks silence into smithereens. It disturbs the moon's peaceful slumber. It hurts the leaves' soft rustled. But it leaves me with peace inexplicable. And I'm grateful that they don't judge. My only faithful mother : thank you.