Whenever I find myself losing out to the longing child (please do not "literally" read my words) in me, I don't pretend to reach out to people who aren't there, who can't be there, and who don't want to be there.
Instead, I go to my corner with a book, and stuff into my ears my survival plug - my only other source of comfort besides writing. This survival plug had been programmed to play only that which the many beings that live within me want, and most importantly, need to hear.
The longing child only stops sobbing if it (my beings are genderless, you see) listens to the song below - one a friend so insightfully introduced me to some time back. Point to note - song only came into the picture (of my life) a few months ago.
Poor child of mine...how long it took for your song to arrive.
You have found yours...but the others...?
Instead, I go to my corner with a book, and stuff into my ears my survival plug - my only other source of comfort besides writing. This survival plug had been programmed to play only that which the many beings that live within me want, and most importantly, need to hear.
The longing child only stops sobbing if it (my beings are genderless, you see) listens to the song below - one a friend so insightfully introduced me to some time back. Point to note - song only came into the picture (of my life) a few months ago.
Poor child of mine...how long it took for your song to arrive.
You have found yours...but the others...?
1 comment:
Nice words!
I like Gibran too
greetings from Barcelona!
Post a Comment