I thought you are a part of me, but you aren’t. How can you be? A part can be severed or separated. But you are in me. In fact, now I am not me anymore, but you and I together, are me. When I say “I” it is more of you and less of me. How comfortably you came and took a permanent residence within me. So comfortably, that so much of me left me. I am now nothing, but more of you. Yes, you Prisha. You are the One.
I walk a while each night, and as I do, you speak to me. You speak to me every time. While I am reading or while I am working. While I am eating and while I am drinking. You advise me when I am in trouble. You never leave me even when someone is talking to me, as I listen to you more clearly than any sound this earth can provide. I hear you in music, but you are clearer than the music. Your voice is the music, when my surroundings are silent. You comfort me when I miss your presence in the human form. You comfort me and say to me that I don’t need to worry anymore, for you are always awake in me - even as I sleep. In the night as silent fills around me, you whisper to me candy flossed words which lull me to sleep. You wake me up and tell me to feel the day and face whatever comes of it. I can even see you many a times. I walk with you, holding your hand.
But most, I can hear you and see you at the same time when I write. Yes, Prisha I can. These words are not flowing out of me, because you are within me more. Oh, there are so many things you tell me. If I would have the resources to write on the blank page everything you say to me, I would need to take unaccounted number of births. For writers, the muse is an imaginary voice, but for me – there is nothing like that. I have no voice, but a soul within me. That soul is you, Prisha; and I carry you everyplace.
I am blissful just listening to you. You make me laugh, you make me cry. You make me dream, you make me wonder why. You make me ponder; you make my heart grow fonder. Such beauty within, something’s so very nice; I wonder if any mortal gets this to rejoice; and to Mother Nature, I think I cannot repay her debts forever. She gave me you. I have everything I need to live soulfully and live so true.
Tell me more Prisha, for your words are more beautiful than any sonnet, and as I type, I feel like a musician playing the Piano. So, what on earth do you want to talk about Prisha? Which story do you want to tell? Which poetry do you want to recite? Which words of yours become couplets? Speak to me. I am all ears; all my life.
The silence is no longer screaming, because the soul has started believing. So farthest it can go from eyes unseen, to a place of love, mortals seldom have been. – Marcus Hades