A Note

After the resilience of pain and sorrow, the sweet melancholy of happiness rests in my heart with tranquility on my mind. The relentless days that I had once spent with affliction and thus longed for peace has now come as a subtle surprise of the wind. Days no longer refer to those escapist attitudes but rather to the “down to earth” attitudes where we ere to look forward…no matter what be the consequence, and how hard or merry the day be. This was when I realized that happiness is always in the journey, and not in the end.

A year has passed since I’ve been writing poems. It’s amazing and wonderful to recall my memories as an emerging poet. In this journey, I’ve evolved through yellow tissue papers, small single torn pages of which a few are lost, and most remain, last pages of my school notebooks, promoted to middle pages, and finally shifted to a personal notebook. Throughout my evolution, I’ve written terrible poems, good poems, and a few really good poems that I feel proud of like “Versed Trial” and “The Great Gatsby’s Song.” I’m also glad that one night, I wrote “Python’s Patience” that gave birth to “Fair Lady”, an illusion of an angel in the form of a mortal being; eyed by all. The lady exists in many of my poems and will continue to do so because I have created her and given her life through my poems. In return, she has helped me bring “girl” emotions in my poems; that I lacked. Originally, I thought of calling Fair Lady as “Damsel in Dust,” but because it was long and sounded odd in the poem, I wrote Fair Lady, and in sheer joy I cried BINGO!

A year is a long journey, 365 days, 53 weeks, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes and 31536000 seconds. Throughout it, I’ve seen myself evolve to a better mark every day, to better poems every time I’ve wrote them down. In this time, I’ve felt and experienced pain, sorrow, loss, tears, love, friendship, and joys that were to last, but were euphoria, farewells, regrets, and so on. I’ve experienced best bonds turn fragile, and back to somewhat normal, and frail threads replaced by utter silence. The year had been very turbulent, I’d say…the silent ocean raised in rage and slowly calmed down. I wonder at times if it had been those very turbulent times that compelled me to write poems, and I fondly yet again wonder if the poems came as angels…as an outlet and shield to drain my loneliness. Whatever it be, I’m grateful to all the tears, joy, love, friendship because those elements helped me be a poet.

Aristotle says, ‘people become poets when they fall in love,’ and that’s how I probably became one. I could have fallen in love, or had a mere illusion of it’s existence. I’d best not stick to one. Whatever it be, it was great, and I will always cherish the moment. Love is a game of hearts. It is what people cherish throughout their life and wish to endure for the time immortal. Love is an impregnable bond of hope, trust, joy, and strength to cope through down times. Love can’t be measured with the depth of the seas, nor can it be measured with the height of the Everest. It only can be measured with the tears and laughter…with the beats of heart that pounds to hear that special name…

Fair Lady, I wonder who you are, but you will always inspire my poems, live in it, and give life to them; although I created you…