Light, blinding light, surrounded me like an inescapable prison — but so was the cold, this pervasive cold, that seemed to invade and violate whatever warmth there was left within the hearth of my soul.
We live in this season of afterglow: where the summers lit by countless smiles slowly fade against the relentless marching of days, autumns invading spring before its appointed time — and all sense of it, for time is nothing but an illusion without memories. And what are the seasons here for if not for creating a cycle of stories to remember us by?
A half-forgotten story, maybe that’s all I am… a light that has lost its warmth, nothing more than a bare luminescent shadow of one’s self.
I look around at all the light surrounding me, shining and glaring like a condensate of constellations turned into this ocean of brightness. And I can’t help but wonder how we can be so surrounded by such a myriad, yet feel so alone and cold as we sink against the shadows that they cast.
How can a face still glow with such a cold smile? Smiles are meant to be worn as something warm and comforting. Thousands of smiles making the world a little bit brighter; yet at the same time, a lot more colder.
Maybe that’s why some people shy away to the corners, where the absence of cold humanity creates lukewarm pockets of emptiness that feel more tolerable, preferable, comfortable. Maybe that’s why some would rather stay in the peripherals of society’s short-sighted vision: a self-imposed, relative isolation; a cathartic socio-emotional exile.
Maybe that’s why some people have learnt to silently cry — it’s easier to let the teardrops fall where they can’t be seen; and in being unseen, unjudged. Maybe that’s why some people have learnt to close their eyes — because sometimes, we would rather feel than see it, this light that people claim to be.
Maybe someday, the world will be warmer again. So will everyone’s smile be again — shining, light the morning sun, a soft gentle yet insistent kiss that’s more endearing than annoying. A warmth that causes a chain reaction of minuscule embers to glow, and go ablaze.
But for now, all we have are this tiny lights in the sky, whose touch we might never know. For now, all we have are the luminescence of hope — waiting, believing that love will always find a way to make us its home.