Water flows through creeks and crevices of withered mountains when it rains over their pride ridden heads.
Heads, as they say, are meant to be held high; necks, as we have seen, break under the curse of ego sometimes.
In the end, if you don’t step over this grandeur and pay courtesy to love, a weak neck will make you fall into it someday.
Such are the tales of love gone rogue.
Such are the tales of life.
—
In life, we wander; we walk through the fields, we smile through the hearts, we fly through the skies and we swim through the waters; regardless, we wander.
Our skin hides behind rags; we sleep on dirt, under the dirt. We wash faces with the stream of our own tears, we feed on abandoned hearts and we gather memories; hand-picking charms and feathers on our way to nowhere.
—
Nowhere… is a place. An empty void, hanging somewhere in the middle of the air. It has walls, they are dark; so dark that they surpass the physical possibilities of darkness; so dark that they are mere shadows.
Nowhere… is a halt. A refuge away from the dank fluidity into the deserted narrow lanes of random oil strokes; the strokes are sharp; they stab sometimes and you may fall, but you will fall into nothing but comfort.
—
Journeys are like stories, and your footprints are like splattered ink, left behind by a broken nib. The writer, though, is fate; and it’s no less of a clown who knows magic.
You are the reader, more of a dazed one. You follow the plot, and by each passing metaphor, you age.
But… it is not before the evening that you begin to see your clown’s folly.
It is not before the evening that you have read these metaphors well enough to spot when they repeat.
By the night, though, all of it makes sense to you-
You were going around in circles.
You were running around like a lost child, looking for her mother.
Alas, you would only find yourself at the same place at the end of each hour.
Why?
Because… that place, in the middle of this huge endless crowd, was the last place where this world felt safe to you.
That was the last time when you held your mother’s hand, and each time you get closer to this tiny piece of land, the feeling of ‘being home’ washes all your exhaustion away.
But… Do you ever reach home?
No!
Hiraeth brings along a sense of unquenchable insanity, and you have no choice but to drown!
“Hiraeth- a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past”
– Gauri Walecha
I’ve never heard of Hiraeth before, but you tie the idea in perfectly with this. . .
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Isn’t it such a fascinating word?
I am so glad you like my work. ❤
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Yes, I love learning new words!
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Home is anywhere and everywhere that we find love , freedom , joy. It’s never perfect but it’s where we truly belong, accepted , be ourselves . Yes, we can never go back to our physical home of childhood , but memories of them we always carry. Beautiful read🙏
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I agree… Home can never be limited to a piece of land or a building. It is always the family, the love, and the warmth associated with that place. Once we move away from the home, it is the memories that keep us smiling for life. ❤❤
Thank you so much for reading. ❤❤
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Beautiful poetry.Thanks for sharing. By the way, please join my blog too, with notifications, if you find it interesting – let’s grow together!😊
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Thank you so much. I am so glad you like my work. ❤❤
Surely. I would love to visit and follow your blog.
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hogar al que no puedes regresar, un hogar que tal vez nunca fue; la nostalgia, el anhelo, el dolor por los lugares perdidos de tu pasado ”
Me gusto ❤
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I am so glad you like my work. ❤
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Wow! I have read it 3 times just to get the idea and your words seep in me! It’s beautiful 😊
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Goodness! I am so glad you liked my work and could connect to it that level Ramyani❤❤
Thank you so much for reading ❤
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It’s my pleasure 😁
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love that word: I have committed it to my notebook 🙂
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I agree. This is such a beautiful word. Thank you so much for reading. ❤
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Many thanks for the follow on The Bikers’ Guide to the Dordogne, but I’m sorry to say we we are no longer updating the blog.
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Oh! That is absolutely fine. You have a lovely blog. ❤
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There is so much here about the journey through life. A great read.
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Thank you so much for reading. I am so glad you like my work. ❤❤
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Powerful word
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It sure is ❤
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I enjoyed reading this, thank you.
“The last place where this world felt safe” – That resonates, I believe Cynefin means the same thing.
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Thank you so much for reading. I am so glad you like my work.❤
Exactly. Cynefin is another welsh word with a similar meaning, except that ‘Hiraeth’ is about the feeling of missing a familiar place in time.
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So interesting: I had never heard about Hiraeth before
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It’s such a striking word… I love it ❤️
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I’ve no words to describe the beauty of your writing skills…you are simply fantastic. Great going
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Thank you so much for this beautiful comment. Motivates me to keep on practicing my craft.
So glad you like my work ❤❤❤❤
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I’ve no words to describe the beauty of your writing skills. Great going.
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Oh Goodness. Your comment is so special to me. This made my day. Thank you so much! ❤❤
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Lost youth, lost time, lost love! What will one not give for those!? Well, today is still ours!
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I agree… We crave so much for our lost homes in time, that we forget to value today!
Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate it. ❤
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Reblogged this on A Tale of Two Cities (and vastly different Countries).
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