Dehydrated

Dehydration again!

A heart that has been dehydrated for too long in the absence of one specific kind of rainfall. I hear the sky tear drops thudding at my window sill, reminding me of a lifelong yearning that has apparently ceased to exist right at this very moment.
You cannot live your entire life in a dream. You have to wake up every morning, you have to open your eyes to see the real world filled with never-ending wars each day. You cannot just shut your eyes and see everything in times like this. In times like this, when you have to forcefully open your eyelids to see the real world. At moments when you should cease to live in your dream.

The winter sleep has to be ended when spring returns. Even though your heart still carries the fossilized snow flakes, you cannot just shake them off before stepping into the sunlight. In the desperate fear of the blazing rays of the bright sun drinking up all your icy-liquid, you take a step back and gaze at the gloomy cave which sheltered you throughout this lifelong winter.

You take a step forward, feeling the warmth irritating your blood vessels. Still you long to walk towards the garden full of carnations. As you feel the fossilized snow flakes inside your heart begin to evaporate into the empty air, you clutch onto your chest and limp towards the carnations just to fill up your memory with its enchanting smell. You feel your nostrils dancing to the songs of the cool breeze and your eyes well-up with icy cold tears. Tears of happiness. Tears of nostalgia. Tears of compassion. Tears of gratitude. Tears of countless-unaccounted-feelings.

Tears. Tears. Tears.

Falling down to your feet as you go. They mark your trail on the muddy path even better than your footprints. You look back at the tiny pools of tears created on the ground. Your heart finds relief. At least the tear pools would help you find your way back.

Oh, the carnations.
The air fills up with the sweetest smell. Beautiful, elegant creations of nature! Flowers that wither at the end of the day. How beautiful it is to know that they will never ever be born again! You wonder perhaps if they know their fate.

Thousand steps taken forward. Still no sight of a garden. You cannot just give up feeling the enchanting,mesmerizing, soothing smell of the carnations. Another step forward. Another. Another preceded by another. GO ON! The mind whispers. Clutching your hand to your weakening chest you feel the urge for replacement. A replacement for the evaporated snow flakes which kept your heart on beat. You urge. You yearn. You cry out. You weep. You plead for a momentary rainfall to fill your dried up veins with water.

A clear sky. Clearer than ever. You cannot bear to watch the picture shows the flimsy-white clouds play on the sky. Rain! Rain! Rain! You hear your veins plead.
Just two options.

Step back or move forward.

Step back and find your way back to the shelter, now when the tear pools are still in sight. If by chance it rains, they would disappear into nowhere and you cannot find the way back. Even your foot prints would be erased. Yet you yearn for it to rain. If not a drizzle.

Move forward and have faith on the clear-blue sky to pour down some water. Have faith on the yet-unseen carnations not to wither away before you reach them. Above all, have faith on your dying heart to pump enough water into your veins to keep you awake.

Confusion.
Decisions to be made.