“O heart, be patient” – Qur’an

My heart has been jumping around,
Quite a lot since,
I became old enough to feel it.
My heart beats faster,
with every sheep I count,
one sheep,
two sheep,
and three.
Maybe it just loves to dream,
And since I’ve grown old enough,
And since the things I’ve seen,
It has become restless,
For it wants butterflies,
and flowers,
fire and gushing winds,
Empty cliffs and ferocious waves.
It wants roses,
and tequila shots,
and that one girl I just can’t walk up to.
It wants to travel to places,
that even cameras haven’t seen
places where there’s no chaos,
And everything is at peace.
My heart doesn’t know what’s enough,
for it still isn’t old enough,
but it’s old enough to want everything anyway.
It wants giggles,
and tears that don’t sting,
and lies for surprise parties,
instead of a casual fling.
It wants unrequited love,
adventures and crazy shit.
It wants to eat french,
and kiss Italian,
Hold tiny paws of dogs,
and look into the small eyes of cats.
It wants to live,
and not just exist.
What it does not want is to be
Naive in this world.
It wants everything good,
and everything bad.
But most of all,
it wants to be able to smile,
and let it reach the eyes.
That is all.


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20 Comments

  1. This was a lovely read, Utsav and your background image so different–like silver surfer surfing in a sky free from chaos. Keep counting sheeps and ships as you celebrate and rule the world of imagination :)

  2. That way of relapsing from past to present, present to future is as straightforward as it is vague. It reminds me of my own life -and I think everyonelse’s in a way- because when passing through childhood our existence is almost dream-like; days and days go by, you never keep count, your convictions are non existent yet, your goals change and your heart does not usually aches. It does not want yet, it does not desire, because desiring something comes from the recollection of what’s lived, what’s been lived by others that you are willing to feel and of course, the unknown. The heart beats stronger (let’s assume for a while that it always did) and you feel it: it aches sometimes and it warms itself, like a cocoon that is not sure whether it was a caterpillar, a cocoon, a winged insect or something entirely different. It has the intuition and a blurry guidance of our inner truths. Then, it starts to beat at the rhythm of the things that it sees, it starts to -know- what it wants even though the mist is not cleared off, not yet. Sensibility of the self is a great deal for most of us, understanding is not knowing and either is comprehending, but even though we are unaware of It, we, as cocoons start to realise what we want and what we do not want and how this things we want them, and sometimes, it is truth what we want, as Henry David Thoreau once said.

    Cheers, mate.

    Yanni

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