..then there was faith

The world did not end.
I am breathing. I can feel the blood in my veins.
I can feel my shivering hand.
How I am alive? I always thought the world would collapse when you left.
Collapse, it did. Not the entire world. But, my world.
There was a void before you entered my world, But I wasn't aware.
Then you came, filled it with light, love and faith.
Now you are gone. And I sit in darkness.
I have love, just mine. Your's left with the light.
Now what do I do with this faith?
Neither do I understand it nor accept it.
I can't throw it away, it has a part of you. A part of you that defined me.
But your definition of me is choking me and I wrench the faith away.
There I was faithless, light less with my heart full of love.
I walked taking that love as my crutches.
Oh. I was disgusted. Threw them away.
There I was faithless, light less and now.... loveless.
I glowed in the dark as bright as me. I couldn't see in the dark, walk without my crutches but then there was faith.

Why

Can the air above the river feel it breeze away?
The silent touch, that leaves it a part of its love.
The part which would redefine it.
Its no longer the dry, sundry air,
Its been touched. It has a swagger of the teenager in love, of the sunflower's glow in the spring.
Its purpose has changed.
Yet, the river flows unchanged.
No, its not the ignorance nor is it the haughty one.
There is a whirlpool inside which the air can't touch.
"You can take in the rocks but not me?", asks the sir, kissing the river.
"Yes. As they stay un moved with the whirlpool in me. But you get lost and don't hold me."
"I am water and yet there is fire when you touch me but what a pity that as grand as you are, you can't ever hold me."

As I write this, I realize how similar you and I are to them.
Such shivering closeness and yet I feel this heat.
Your eyes wander on my face and search my eyes for the reflection of my feelings.
It is the intensity of it that burns my soul.
I want to give myself up and yet I know I'll fall unwanted through a sieve.

Human Me.

I have thought much of our fumbling attempts to come to terms with idea of mortality. Heaven, paradise, another life, children, work...GOODNESS- so many drugs to counter that terrible disease. And yet we live as if our existence is endless, as it matters, as if the "I" is of infinite significance.

We, stupid human beings, are filled with pride in this "I", in it's uniqueness. It is true we are unique, we are, more than any other organism, differentiated and particular.

But is it not exactly the same "US" that ceases to exist with a greater finality than any other creature in this universe.

It seems to me that we humans are fated to be stranger to one another. BUT.. Our identities do not contain just us. By ourselves we mean NOTHING. An identity becomes active, positive and meaningful only in relation to others. The whole potential of who we are and what we are is realised only through our relationship with others.