Sympathy

There should be no despair for you.
While nightly stars are burning
While evening pours it’s silent dew
And sunshine gilds into morning
There should be no despair — though tears
May flew down like a river
Are not the best beloved of years
Around your heart for ever?

They weep, you weep, it must be so;
Winds sigh as you are sighing
And winter sheds it’s grief in snow
Where autumn leaves are lying
Yet, these revive, and from their fate
Your fate cannot be parted :
Then, journey on, if not elate
Still never broken-hearted! – Emily Bronte

The way Emily Bronte pours her heart in everything she sees and feels is mesmerizing and emphatic. These times mentioned in her poem. These feeble and vulnerable hours, when the world falls silent as if in horrors of dreadful, is when our thoughts blow away to the people we care. Our thoughts fly away and our hearts yearns to be near them.

While nightly hours are still burning.

Of all the words she could’ve chosen, she chose burning. I’m not as precise as what her heart says, but the burning reminds me of the slow death, slow tormentation of being kept away from what you want the most. From what you need. And they’re burning ;cremation every piece of you like the incense /candle till the scent of him fills into the air. Till the thought of them fills into your very existence and you’re nothing but a collection of memories of who you were with him. About what ‘us’ used to be and what it meant. It was so much more than just two letter word. It was everything but a two letter word.

While evening pours it’s silent dew
And sunshine gilds into morning

It never ends, does it? It just changes like everything in this world. And it manifests itself from one beautiful Melancholy  to one ethereal hope. It  just changes and keeps on changing forever. If it ends ;what would exist? If your feelings die and sit still like a corpse within your heart, would it still beat the same. Maybe different. Maybe better. Maybe it’ll leave you different from the way you were when you had so many expectations from someone.


There should be no despair — though tears
May flew down like a river
Are not the best beloved of years
Around your heart for ever?

They say that the best comes before your eyes when you die. You’ll be in a corner, beside the window, showered in moonlight. And in this peace you see them all the time ;in your mind over and over again until it kills you. Is this what a little death feels like? And that’s when you don’t feel anything anymore. It stops for you yet the tears flow. Will I remember these moments everyday, every year? You can’t and won’t forget them. You can’t throw away a piece of land in void and wish everything to look the same, can you? It changes for better. Maybe the tears will fill a pond with love you never knew could grow over there.

They weep, you weep, it must be so;
Winds sigh as you are sighing

In these moments we’re fragile. More than what we could ever be. There’s no line of existence and the whole universe feels one. You are what the wind is when comes from a land so far, you could only wonder if it could be merciful enough to come from somewhere close, from the person you think about it, carrying their touch in it’s feeble breeze. Can the wind be that merciful for once? And so it goes, you’re dissolved into the air hoping a way to find them in it. Don’t fall anymore. Please ,don’t.

And winter sheds it’s grief in snow
Where autumn leaves are lying

It’s always the same. Every sorrow isn’t the same but the way it leaves you, as you express yourself is what unchanged. It leaves you and falls with a heaviness you never knew you were carrying with yourself. It sheds itself from you the way snow does from the cloud. Falling slowly and gently cause the parting is hard. Tears trickle down your cheeks and you wonder when will they leave me forever, when will this stop. But they just fall by your side like stains, like marks of your feelings. Do you see the leaves when you’re sitting under the tree in a evening so bright. You don’t see what’s broken, but you do see what’s beautiful. It falls with a heaviness so light, so dead, you can only wonder this was it? These were the dead heaviness this tree was carrying?

Yet, these revive, and from their fate
Your fate cannot be parted :
Then, journey on, if not elate
Still never broken-hearted!

The heaviness parts away from you; the way a leaf does from something of its own. But there is never an end to anything, is there? It leaves you alone and suddenly one day you feel something different bloom within you. Something you never knew could be there within a form so small and so rigid. A happiness and part of you that was lost somewhere far in the past, in years that were long gone ; in time that just seems like yesterday. You think when something leaves you, it’s finally gone and could never be the same with you. Every person, every object and every place. But the truth is that nothing ever goes away from you as far as you think it does. It’s tied with a fragile string of memories of a life that you lived, of an era when, what is lost today, was yours for some time. It haunts you, a little by little with a recurring nightmare, a push in the past. But that’s just what it was and not what you are today. Cause without it, you’re so much more than what you were with it. The winds blow by you and everything goes on. Life carries on and time passes by, and somewhere down the road you’ll meet happiness like it was always there with you