A Thousand Years

So you lost someone you loved. 

To time, to crime, to science,  to space.

You should know that this was not the first time you loved them.

You have loved them multiple times before.

This was not the first time you both stumbled through circumstances to meet each other again.

And you both felt it faster, each time through.

And all it took was two sets of two pairs of eyes

meeting through the layers of lost lifetimes and stolen glances

and hands held among expressions of love.

and the unrelenting tide of waiting,

to set your world on fire once again, brighter than before.

So you lost someone you loved in this lifetime.

In some other lifetime, it ends differently. 

In some other lifetime, it does not end.

*Hugs*

Exodus

In the moment we're born, we're drawn to form a union with others. An abiding drive to connect, to love, to belong. In a perfect union, we find the strength we cannot find in ourselves. 

But the strength of the union cannot be known until it is tested.

A furry angel,the savage beast and the undefined

 

He towered over them. Savagely, looking wild and yet so hurt…

His eyes, the shade of dark red, were seething. Emanating a dull fervour of ferociousness and something that wasnt just hunger, anger, lust or anything else.

She stayed put, pinned to the ground, trembling as she watched him rip the men apart.

The human instinct in her should have been horrified and appalled at his reckless, scary demeanour as his eyes met hers. And she was. 
She was terrified to the core..  But more from the reasons that may have made him like this...

She  should have stopped.

She should have run for her life while she still could..

But when has "should" made sense in love?

She should have… but she couldn’t.

She couldn't leave.

She couldn't leave him there alone.

Amidst the raw, displaced acts of treachery he exuded..She could sense the flicker of confusion on his face.

Almost as if he was tired of himself, tired of his nature, tired of his cruelty.

He was hurt, she could tell and so was she.. only, she would probably be his next victim of redemption once he was through with them. Yet she had the urge touch his hurt face and take away the pain that flowed like craters on the moon..

And as their faces came closer, his teeth snared, unapologetic, while her eyes widened in fear.. and a strong bout of absolute tenderness..

And just seconds away from a probable gruesome death… it dawned on her… This wasn't the fear of him.. it was the fear of not fearing him. 
Not fearing her death, if it meant his life. 
If it meant his redemption. 
If it meant his healing.

Only time would tell what this beast really wanted.

What he really was. 

But as of that very second, he was her undoing.

FairyTales

 A Beautiful Princess.An enigmatic Prince,
An Enchanted Palace. A majestic King
Whimsical Subjects. A viciously seductive Villian and of-course the Knight in shining Armour
Delicate. Flowers. Vintage. Magical. Sparkle. Dainty. Lovely. Colorful. Natural. Candles. Love. 

There is a part in all of us — a sliver of innocence left from our childhood, lying dormant — that comes alive when we read a good story, watch a movie, or experience art.

That  part that still believes in fairy tales.

I adored fairy tales as a child. 

I still do, actually. 

Mysterious dark forests, wishing wells, enchanted princes and poised apples and glass slippers not to mention, adorable animals who speak – what’s not to love? I think I always felt, curled around a volume of Hans Christian Andersen or the Grimm’s collected stories, that there was a little bit of magic hidden away at the heart of every story.

Of course, they come with thier share of darkness too. I remember sobbing over the fate of the Little Mermaid, who for all her efforts couldn’t make the man she’d fallen for, love her back. And then there’s the gruesomeness – the evil king/queen ravaged by jealousy/greed with heads rolling, feet cut off, eyes put out. In some ways, these are probably the original horror stories which have survived the decades of editing and euphemising in order to make it more child-friendly. As a child, though, I don’t remember ever being troubled by the physical violence in the tales. It all happened, after all, in a land far, far away .

I love the older darker cruel-ler gruesome tales as much as I love the cheesy ones that end with happily ever after (but I loathe that I do, but as I was weaned on Grimm and Disney, it’s ingrained). 

What I love is that fairy tales are that they are living and evolving.  They are survivors. They change to suit society’s needs. Originally they were cautionary tales warning both adults and children alike of the dangers in the world. Each tale would change with each reciting as the storyteller would embellish and adapt the tales to suit the audience and keep them enthralled.

The thing that has remained with me the most from my childhood love of these stories, though, is that sense that there is a little bit of magic hidden somewhere within them. Fairy tales, once unleashed, take on a life of their own ..  There are still some paths that, once started down, you never know where they might lead . . .

Perfection in Imperfection

It never leaves.

HOLI COW!

Shit today was dirty. and eewy. and long hours scrubbing them colours off but omg Omg OMGEE was'nt it fun!!!

Holi. Rain, Childhood friends.

A Difficult Call - Letting Go

Every decision comes with its own share of risks and repercussions.

Decision to end something old.

Decisions to start something new.

To let go.

To hold on.  

And sometimes,  to just let things be.

I finally took mine.

My favorite day of each year :)

As if the day, spent on multiple birthday cakes starting right from the gooey and the poopy sort wasnt enough for a memory, the dark chocolate hommade one yesterday AND a handfreakingmade pearl tiara made this the best extended birthday EVER!