I am writing. You are reading. Isn't that a beautiful partnership? Worlds open doors and you can see the landscape of a distant horizon through somebody else's eyes. The journey is beautiful like two sparrow's taking flight, together, at the same time. The vast endless stretch of the Himalayas don't seem daunting anymore. The snow peaked mountains beckon you to a distant land. The treacherous passes yawn to let you pass through. The gust of bone chilling air makes the Tibetan prayer flags whisper prayers of kindness, compassion and goodwill into the harsh terrain. Somewhere in the foggy distance, someone turns the Mani wheel and the gentle tinkle of the tinksha and the vajra is heard in the unstoppable wind. You are alone. You are reading this. You are visualizing the heart of sacred and beautiful things. I take you to arid deserts. The sand is in your hair. Camels trace footprints of Prophets who had lived there. An oasis looms surrounded by sturdy palms and the most beautiful woman on the planet stops to breathe her storms. Her eyes are the colour of dark mediterranean nights. Her voice is the sound of an Oud. Her anklets flirtatiously seduce the unawakened earth. You are here. You are now. You feel the swirl of cold water around your feet. The ocean laughs joyously. It dances decadently feeling every contour of your searing skin. You forget to breathe and your dreams touch the sky. In that moment of bliss you become water gasping for that one gust of fragrant air. There is a gentle breeze stroking your cheek. Raindrops make memories. To the far right is your future, a forest of deep dark uncertainty. Trees whisper secrets. Birds croon a melody. Stop for a moment traveller. Look around. The world has created a divine symphony. If only you'd see. I am writing. You are reading. Isn't that a beautiful companionship?
© Jaspreet Mann. I write. You read. All Rights Reserved.
Stop for a second. Breathe. Thank all the people who light up your life because they went away- that woman who betrayed you, that man who left you on the edge of the cliff and that friend who stabbed you in the back. Thank them profusely because their absence will always return you to an abundance of yourself. They are not worth the time of your heart, the strength of your nostalgia and the shades of your love. Don't you see? You were not made for frivolous nights at a fancy restaurant or stagnant conversations or conditional love. You were not made for small things. You were made for the might of the Himalayas and the vigour of the Pacific. You were made for the dance of the Dervish. You were made to embrace the supreme possibilities of true love. But most of all you were made for you. Come back to yourself.
© Jaspreet Mann. All Rights Reserved.