Magic of It

Hold it in your hand and unleash the magic.

Take me to the places I’ve never been and let me feel the earth under my feet and the wind on my face.

Feed my emotions. Nurture them like a little baby eager to feed. Create them, kill them, and see them reborn. Give them a body and soul so that I may see them and experience them in ways never done before. Now they are more than feelings. They are living, breathing creatures. Creatures of myth, of fire and mayhem, of rocks and boulders, of flowing rivers and huge waterfalls.

Hold it in your hand and do the thing that no one can do better than you.

Play it and recapture every sense I possess. Make every nerve in my body a slave to you. I sway with it. I rise and fall, I am here and there, I’m me and I’m every living organism. I’m as small as an insect then as huge as a giant. I cry – but the tears won’t come running down. I evolve and fly out with the notes. They take me where they go, tempt me with their every move. As pure as the morning dew on the autumn leaves.

I close my eyes, but I can still see. I can still hear it, breathe it, taste it, feel it. I rule the world, and yet I’m slave to your every whim.

Hold it in your hand and lose yourself again.

Energize me, invigorate me, make me live again. Show me that the stars are closer than the tip of my nose. I reach out for them, juggle them and create what you create. Yet it’s not half as beautiful as what you create.

Give me power and I move like never before. I move and stroll through the woods. I stroll through the skies, unhindered and uncontrolled. I go where it goes, I follow obediently.

I break out into energy and I levitate. It’s like I rule the world. Nothing can stop me as sparks burst out of my fingers. I’m scary, I’m beautiful. I’m vain, yet I’m humbled at it all.

My soul rises – freed from its shackles and floats around. It shows me the farthest reaches of everything I once dreamed. It all slowly materializes before me. And as my soul flies around, the dreams are built, lived, and then they disappear. Every wrong decision is relived, every missed opportunity is explored, every love is cherished.

Hold it in your hand and take me in again.

And slowly you take me down to earth. To my worldly world. To the life of Men. And my soul floats back in, breathes a sigh of relief, and we are whole again. For it yearned for a second of liberation, and you gave my soul its wish. And so it comes to an end.

And I stand there, realizing how small I truly am. It was never about me. It was always you. It was always what you held in your hand. For the way you do it is reminiscent of ancient, pagan magic that died long ago.

You’ve shown me life in a way that life never showed me. And then it slowly ends.

Hold it in your hand and never let go.

Everyone Matters

In our busy lifestyles, it is often that we miss personal interactions with those around us. In other times, some people may seem unworthy of time or care or attention.

We see them everyday, but we never notice them. We talk to them everyday, but we never really hear them. We interact with them everyday, but we rarely feel them. It's almost as if they are invisible. But the truth is, everyone matters. No matter how small or big they are, they all matter in their own way.

So sometimes, life pulls you and shakes you and tells you just what the hell is wrong with you!?

Its simple. Its only a matter of life. Its a matter of lifestyle.

Its only when these people are gone, that you start realizing how integral and important they were for your life all along. Only then you start to appreciate the fact that, now they are gone, life will not be the same again.

People will come and go, that is the nature of life and I have learned long ago to accept this simple fact. And just as is the nature of humans, we forget, we move on. That is where our primary strength lies.

Cold-hearted? Maybe. But it is the only way life can carry on. But the beauty in humans lies in the fact that, while we forget, people don't disappear. They linger on - like ghosts- and visit us as memories. Some memories hurt, some memories are full of pain. But the essence of a memory is love.

Memories are born of love. We don't remember those people we dislike or hate. The memories that live on are born of love, and that is why they should be a source of happiness.

Next time I'm walking down the street I will remember you. And it will bring a tear to my eye. But then I will remember who you were. I will remember how you were. And I will smile.

And I know this is how you would want to be remembered.