You ask me, “How are you” as a pleasantry, not as a question.
The question I answer with only a few syllables.
I say I am fine, but sometimes out of the prettiness of the weather, I might end up saying, I am good.
You never intend to ask, and I never mean to reveal the truth hidden behind the veil of smiles.
With time I have hushed the voices, hidden deep inside my head.
Instead, I have become a silent observer, like you, watching the tides of my emotion.
I am silently learning to burn the fierce fires of my belly.
I am silently befriending, the silence.
Letting my silences do the wonders that my words could not.
Alas! That’s the irony of being human; we need words for everything.
Words for our simple joys,
To our mundane sorrows.
Words to read the intricacy of someone’s heart,
To the conundrum of their mind.
How great it would have been, if we could read each other’s silences.
And if we could, the world would not have existed, as it exists.
Because if we could, you might see that,
It’s the silhouette of darkness, that watches over me.
It’s the soft hand of night breeze that caresses my hair.
The stillness of the moon that holds me in its care.
The chirpiness of the birds which bring me joy,
The glory of the sun that brightens up my day.
It’s the nature that holds me intact, not you.
So, this time, I silently choose, Silence over words, to pierce through your soul.