Age of Bittersweet
There are times when I feel as though I've aged before my time, and there are times when I think I never grew up. Times when sadness creeps up on me, on the wings of an event, a song, a person, or the soft trickle of water down a misty sky. And then there are times when the frolicking of a child makes me leap in joy like a goat on the grey rock of a mountain pass. There are times when I deem myself a cynic, bitter as neem, and times when my own effervescence and tenderness surprise me, as I chuckle at another's negativity.
But it is here, at the confluence of these times, of brevity and volume, slience and language, that I make my home. At dusk, or dawn, never noon, never night. A twilight in which the evenstar bears witness to the susurration of the grass and glints off the steel. At that moment, I am truly me. Reconciled, wistful, at peace.
This then; the age of bittersweet. And I am laughing as I weep...
6 comments:
Beautifully written...almost poetic! And I can relate to it so much :-)
is it prose or is it a poem ?
Thanks... it started as a poem - then the torrent broke the bounds of verse.
beautiful... don't have words to describe how I felt after I finished reading this... amazing...
Beautiful writing , cant think of a different word for it :)
Guess all of us relate to this.
This is one of the reasons why people continue to read ur blogs....u can put the most commonly felt feelings into most uncommon and articulate words! Good work :-)
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