And she kept her disguise aside and came out when the sun went out. She isn’t alone; she dances along with a horde of equally beautiful women around her sharing a common disguise. They have the beauty of a cool breeze in hot weather; you never get enough of them. They stay disguised as plants and trees for the world to see, they stand there in the scorching heat and chilly winters; they stand tall and proud in snow and rain and hot air waves. They wait all day for him to come and shower his love on them; they wait all day like that, in exile.
He comes because they believe he will; to her he comes because she calls.
Everyone knows the story but no one believes it.
She never realized she was special even among all her friends who looked exactly like her, until she met him. He came to her and held her in his arms just like the way he held everyone else but she found herself in the embrace more than the temporary bliss.
She waits for him like all the others.
For him all are the same, for her, she is the one.
For him all are a part of him, for her, she is him.
But she is like all the others in exile. Exactly like them.
With the first notes from his flute, the heaven descends on that small garden for them and she leaves her disguise to meet him and dance with him.
The love we talk about is the dance of belief, the dance of believing.
Kashiv runs a hand over the laptop and then over his eyes. Earlier he had dusted the laptop and plugged in the charger, unsure it would start. When the laptop blinked with a fresh wave of charge and came to life, Kashiv returned from a self imposed exile. The first thing he reads in the untitled diary gives him reasons to believe that he can start, he can dance and he can return. Kashiv shuts the laptop to return, sits back on his chair, opens his diary and waits. Waits for him.
Image courtesy: Pinterest.
Beautiful and may I say welcone back. Long time no see.
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Thank you Bojana. And thanks for the warm welcome, I guess this time I will stay.
How have you been?
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Please.
Ups and downs, you know, but generally ok. I don’t want to bitch too much.
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That’s how life is.. but I like the attitude.
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Well done! Enjoyed it 👏👏
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Thanks a lot!!
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*sigh* I quite simply adore this.
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Thank you Tara!
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You had me at “And”, and I was swept along by your poetic prose!
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“And”, has been a subject of debate for me, and when you comment like this, you make me feel I am right in doing what I am writing. Hahaha
Thank you, Isha! I am happy you liked it.
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A good comeback.
For her she is me,was very beautifully said.
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Thank you Nikz…
Thanks for appreciating my effort.
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It was really good to see you in my inbox. Welcome back my friend.
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Thanks a lot, Lloyd! 😊
It’s good to be back.
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Have missed your thoughts! Glad to have you back. 🙂
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Thanks a lot!! 😊
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You and your thoughts excellent ❣️❣️❣️
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Thanks a lot, Meena!!
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Meena 😂😂😂😂
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Okay Suman?😊
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Beautiful, and the photo completes it.thumbs up
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Thanks a lot !!
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Wonderful and mysterious. I wonder where it it going or is this its entirity?
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Thanks a lot!
Well it started from somewhere and will travel to a place unknown.
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Nice.
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Thanks 😊
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Welcome 🙂🙏
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It’s really nice.
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I put some of your writings under poetic microscopic analysis *&* your subject matter is a literary explosion=you are the real deal with new ideals!
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Thanks a lot, mate! I just try to help myself forget the pain of carrying the burden, by writing it down.
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And you are doing a positive job!
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Amazing 😍 love your blog ❣️
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Thank you so much Asthaisha!
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“Poetry
Has Its Own Country!” _-Van Prince
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Khalil Gibran, writer, poet,
artist, and is the man from Lebanon & they in his countryburned his books, and he was, by far, greater than William Shakespeare. Read Khalil Bibran’s book, *The Prophet*!
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I am a big Khalil Gibran fan. But, it wouldn’t do him the justice to compare him to other writers. William Shakespeare and Gibran are poles apart in their writing and thought process.
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I agree on the side of Gibran!
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