Reap the Songs…

I will till the barren piece of my soul, ploughing the dreams and turning over the Earth within. I will harrow it with the burden of expectations others had from me and will add the manure of my debacles and failures to it. I will work on it, until the sweat from my brow runs down to my ankles and waters the pulverised field.

I will pick the words from the letters you had written to me over the years and will sow those words into this broken ground. I will bequeath this tiny little estate to you when I go and find my spot under the Sun.

When the rains come, come and tend to this field. See to it that the weed of our egos doesn’t destroy this crop. These words I plant, will burst out into little saplings of songs and then there will be blooms – rich in music and opulent as rainbows that will keep us fragrant even when the soil decomposes the last fragment of our mortal beings and our elements are lost to the universe.

Reap these songs with great love and care. The forage of this yield will be lighter than dreams. Use the sickle of your lustrous lashes and do not let the water of your eyes blunt it. I will burn the canvases I painted to keep us warm through the approaching winters. Once the fire dies and cinders cool down, use the soot as kohl. It will bring back the gaiety of a summer that we spent together on a lone beach, to your eyes.

Once you harvest all the songs, store them well in your heart. Keep the best ones aside as seeds for the next life and use the others to satiate the hunger that plagues our souls for this. I will hum my last words and croon them into your ears the next time we lie down together on the hay stack under the clear blue skies on one of the afternoons. My music may be melancholic to others, but I am sure the lyrics we wrote on sand with our toes, will find a new life even in this somber tone.

For now, pick the words in your letters with love. These are the seeds we will reap as songs one day and make the music the universe loves to listen and play back.