Tears of the Sky.
I found myself staring at the rain, which was spitting its drops all over the place in the middle of the night. The night was warm, though I was locked into my job for several more hours. The rain felt nice, though I couldn’t take a step toward it to fully embrace it. There was a reflection of love hidden in so many dirty puddles, in an inch-deep mud. I saw an echo of her face in one of those nightly splashes. I touched the dirty water with my fingers, smearing them with grime that went deep into my soul. And suddenly, her face was gone, along with the memories of her, as if it was never there. I stayed alone under the rain that was waltzing around me. I didn’t mind. Let it waltz. I was thinking about my life. The rain always does this to me. It makes me think about my life.
A thought came upon my mind. One day I’ll be gone, and everything that happened to me won’t matter any longer. I glanced up at the sky, but the dark and unfriendly clouds of the rainy night covered the beauty of the stars. All my internal and external aches would die along with my body. And suddenly I realized that my experience only matters to me. I think that is the point of our life. To make out of our life a meaningful experience, to see a reflection of love inside of the dirty puddles around you while standing under the rain that waltzes its droplets in a dance of life. To see her face in an inch-deep mud while dreaming of the heaven that must’ve been hidden inside her body. To fall truly in love with an image you try over and over to recreate inside your broken heart. To make a stand for something that truly matters while so many live in lies of their fragmented lives shattered by those lies.
Our life is a moment and only our wish, our desire to make this moment meaningful, make it so. I can die at any point in time. Maybe some evil entity has already signed my death warrant while I’m in a state of blissful ignorance of it. But until then, I live from a moment to moment, trying hard to make some sense out of those moments, trying to find something beautiful inside of them, maybe her face that often I see in so many things. I don’t want to skip my life. I want to embrace it and to know it. I want to learn myself before I’ll lose myself to death.
How much physical pain am I able to tolerate until I break down into an unconscious state? How much emotional turmoil am I able to manage until I will be able to be completely destroyed by her? How much love am I able to give which would be muted by her intentionally out of fear of true passion, not many of us are able to tolerate its burn all over your struggling with so many contradicted emotions entity? Am I strong enough to see her face inside of the reflection of my own that is hidden so deep in her fogged by the medicine eyes? Am I just enough to hear her heartbeat inside of my own heart that is overwhelmed with the notion of her existence in this world? Am I man enough to feel her soul waltzing unstoppably with mine under the melody of our dying love? Am I good enough for her? Or like the rest of the men, am I just a spineless passerby through the exploitation of her distorted dreams that I wasn’t able to correct through the lens of my ability to love?