Hearts burn easilyA wave of sudden melancholy overwhelms me. Was it a coincidence that I was nursing a lovely glass of wine? Red wine at that… Was it coincidence that there was a gorgeous moon up above my head, blazing its glorious light on all? Waxing moon at the end of its journey… Was it a coincidence I was hooked on a particular song for the past few days that sang of yearning, loss and delicateness? Damien Rice at his best…
It’s all of that and more, I know. The memory of a friend who gushed at Rice’s brilliance, for its echoing loss of a break-up. Of maybes and whys. I let the words hammer my heart; about the giving and taking, about sorrow that is sometimes borrowed and shared, about saying things that were once true but now hollow and empty in sound – false.
The wine that goes to the head and makes one want to rail at a silent moon as She makes her journey nonchalantly across the endless skies. Did She bump into any stars on her ruthless path of self-adoration and quest for blind worshipers? Without so much as a ‘by your leave’?
Bothered She could not be as She strolls to her sacred place. Care not She that hearts broke and remained fragmented even after Time passes. Could She not have whispered a simple of peace upon those souls, that only wanted grace, in any form, touch, or song?
The wine that burns down the throat, tears the eyes remind me vividly of fragility, how easily one can be crushed at any given time… Borrowed words, love or Time could not strengthen that passage that all must endure. Nor could you ask for more than that.