The Call Within

Ephemeral are the moments of extreme joy. With the experience slowly becoming one of memory’s many folds, the story just remains as a faint smile between our closed lips with an invisible thread to our heart. That thread lets the echo of the moment reverberate through age.

I do not remember the last time I was at the peak of such an encounter. Of late, I’ve been living on a plateau of emotions, with a balanced house built on a picturesque landscape. But that thread to my heart pulls me towards north, makes me to dream of a higher, narrower plateau, and still up above towards a peak of virgin emotions. To touch matter that does not exist, to swim in a surge of an upward cascade and keep floating like a driftwood waiting to be discovered by my own discovery…

Setting forth towards this call, I step out of the doors towards the gate when a whip of cold wind beats my face. I turn back and think of the balanced house’s warm hearth and comfortable cushions, the table full of food, and the drapes that dictates terms to the light.
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A few yards on, the ajar gate remains motionless to my stationary figure.