A Tiny Droplet

A noticeable glow on her face was light striking even the sun and its rays, she dreams as if a single step is all that would take her to wherever possibilities are better. She laughs as if she doesn’t know how to cry, and she loves mostly, all because that was ALL she knows. Like a little girl dancing so free in a meadow on a very fair morning... This is where she started.

Now I’ve seen her get up a day and upon waking up, all that she ever wanted was to see the day end and just get back to the comfort of laying down her tireless back (I hope)… but more often than not she’d have these extended daytime… and extended evenings, pondering upon the strenuous turning over of pictures that painted her life so far. Since day by day she rushes here and there and right away becomes the hero of everyone, then she makes a smile or two in between what seemed like endless tears. But she learned that tears don’t really get off all those painful areas, loving more, yes, coupled with a greater twinge. But her most painful loving from afar takes only those tears of humility to get back to loving near… even closer. Challenge comes up everyday... and it was always a sweet surrender.

Here, I found that in the between the two extremes is a hidden passion which, right know (I just don’t know) might be shivering out of the empty emotions she gained from her very tiring flight that took five years, to a new, a very new place of unknown. And unfortunately, it’s still unknown yet.

Just by seeing her, smiling or with those tears doesn’t really grasp even a little of what her heart meant, but listen to her songs… and you’d find yourself finding out that everything just becomes… even more mysterious. :p. But just because I was determined to understand, I opened her luggage and surprisingly, aside from her usual stuffs, I found a bunch of letters, and a whole lot of plane tickets, guitar strings, a box of picks, a laptop, a purple notebook, a fountain pen, headset, a weird map, a weird dictionary and red gloves? Weird.

Things are maybe getting even more confusing because I was so afraid to ask… maybe, a little later. Sooner, I know she’d be ready to answer my questions… and she might not even need to speak a word.

But this will be just like a tiny droplet coloring the whole of a plain canvass... And upon waking up, she'd always wish for another fulfilling day... a greater one, perhaps.

-X*&%^!