The Rough Times

I have to admit that for the past few days I had a visit from the great ghost of melancholy.

Though nobody knew. Not even my closest friends. I was still jolly as ever in the office, pitching in with punchlines, laughing and all, but there was this part which hugged me wholly, this silent despair for something, eating me up at night.

Those were a few rough nights, but finally they're gone and I am back to my plans, this optimism about the coming days, and that devil-may-care attitude about life, conventions and what I want. A friend says it succintly, "I'm dancing to my own rhythm."

And because finally (cross my fingers) and seemingly, spring has finally stepped forward, everything in my life (and I am sure in yours too though it does not feel like it) is moving toward something promising, fresh. Which is what happens usually after a tough time. So my wish is that you'll make it through too, fight it out while being true to who you are though it's not an easy thing,really. I wish for all of us, for you especially, who might have accidentally visited my site, who in some crazy spin of fate finds himself reading through my sometimes inane blabbers, I wish you nothing short of preserving a deep honesty-- about who you are, what you really need to be happy and what you can do and achieve for yourself and for others.

So there. Now this is a bit passe, but while I was getting sad and about, I stumbled upon this excerpt from Madelon's poem and it made me sit up and wish I could write something as close to beautiful and sad as this:



I lied a little. There are things I don’t want to tell you. How lonely I am today and sick at heart. How the rain falls steadily and cold on a garden grown greener, more lush and even less tame. I haven’t done much, I confess, to contain it. The grapevine, as usual, threatens everything in its path, while the raspberry canes, aggressive and abundant, are clearly out of control. I’m afraid the wildflowers have taken over, being after all the most hardy and tolerant of shade and neglect. This year the violets and lilies of the valley are rampant, while the phlox are about to emit their shocking pink perfume. Oh, my dear, had you been here this spring, you would have seen how the bleeding hearts are thriving.

From Angel of Duluth by Madelon Sprengnether