Sunday, December 04, 2011

we could be happy

And then, he smsed me, when he was leaving asia to yonderland. Little things like this makes me so happy.

We chatted, and I found myself sharing about a vivid dream I had, early this year. A dream I could not forget, and had not shared with anyone. I always thought that this dream was, perhaps, God-given, to inspire and encourage me. The personal hell I had gone through, a shattered heart and a lost faith, I never could bear to tell him, and never asked him about his personal sorrow, although, without words, I can guess that our sad stories had the same ending. Because, how could I tell him that I felt the same way, that I had also been very disappointed, that I was happier alone than with someone, yet, I had followed my heart to meet him, to find out something, something I can't even name. And this scares me more than anyone, because in the dream, I was old, and so happy, so in love, walking in a wintry place, cobblestoned streets, vividly remembering and loving the street in which we walked, old and gray but safe in each other's presence. And when I woke, I was hopeful again, that even though it had been a tough year, life is short and there are moments when we should be happy like fools, although we have tasted bitter moments, and we cannot anticipate the future, we should count ourselves very lucky to have met each other in a sea full of strangers. I would like 'us' to become a reality and I know we will not be as happy with any one else, but if the reality is that if it only lasts for x period of time, I would die, just die, and isn't it better just to let things be status quo? I don't know all the answers.

This was the poem I wrote then, trying to capture the essence of how the dream felt.

'Twas a girl's daydream of growing old,
And walking hand in hand through
Cobblestoned streets, a vision of
Being blissfully happy, though
Gray haired and bleary eyed, they walked
Slowly but surely
Seeming to saunter in spirit,
They were us.

Though we speak the same language,
Few truly understand
Or comprehend
between the lines
Of what the heart wants to say
Modernity seeks to banish the dream
The dream of love, the scene an ode to love

I wait in peace, captive to your thoughts
Your voice like it was almost always there
The time and place where it had not existed seemed a distant and forgotten place
While I have time more
With eyes half-asleep, I perceive the cobblestoned street
And the language of love
Our hearts both speak.