hiraeth

Yesterday, on my roof, I sat for a long stare into the gusty clouds, fixatedly wondering about what I had expected life to be.

And it was exactly this: a slow cool breeze caressed the little sensory hair on my earlobes as the moonlight filtered through the scattered pattern of the leaves hanging off of an overhead lemon tree. In my twitching nose there was left a funny feeling by the blooming spices minced in ghee on the stovetop rising with heat through the chimney as if directly being fed to me from the concrete enclosure I call my home. Windchimes dancing in the distance gave me a sense of security capable enough of immediately dozing me off but as I resisted the urge to do so - an anti catalyst flew swiftly sweeping away my sleep - chirping away to locate it's home or maybe prey on a worm. I could feel the humidity slowly leave the soil towards the sky clouding my mood inducing it of a trepidation-like state.  

I felt an uneven calmness pulsating through my body only to realise that I was experiencing this in the moment and wasn't fantasizing about a passed memory; it was in a way the realisation that joy and pain were both parts of me and identifying with either was a choice of mine, in essence, giving the choice a nature of certainity over uncertainity.

But then I got up and went back downstairs to the real world.