The winter days are coming to an end. Outside the glass windows a sea of seething brightness, and inside the reluctant residue of the winter chill seeking asylum in the darker corners of the house. Two invitations – one to go outside and bask or wander about, for the peripatetic at heart; the other to stay at home, cozy up in bed and read a book, for the lazy-bone like me.
A difficult choice to be – am I the nomad or the settler?
This is the time of the year when in the earth’s journey around the sun god the worshiping orbital marks a full circle, and nature stamps that circle in the trees’ trunks. A hundred years hence some tree will be felled and sawed up and down and in the timber we shall see the grains of life’s languid journey across time.
And thus gets a year added in my own trunk of memory. A trunk that is growing into a vault. A vault that is darkening with the dwindling light of the remaining years. In this vast chest are treasured so many memories etched in silent language, digitized with various pixels of love and pain and exaltation. And a few unsaid whispers of desires that I have let pass from the timidity of one who fears that boldness may repel beauty.
The redoubtable nomad tamely settling down, am I waiting for the reluctant beautiful to come home, nature in its green, blue and golden hues with a promise of rainbow in the sky? Since when have I been waiting? And when will this waiting end?
When will I end and vanish to ultimately unite with the timeless?
How many more winters will come and go?
(Acknowledgement: “Winter Infinity” by Fred Camilli http://www.almanac.com/content/first-day-winter-winter-solstice)
Indroneer / 28 Jan 2014