August

 A Heartfelt Note

With this month, starts the most blissful part of the year. With loved ones coming of age, and autumn beckoning near, my delight is immeasurable.

Light showers entail the coming days, and I am no stranger to petrichor. It is but a matter of time while the drizzle is met with falling leaves... 

The rain pours generously, disrupting the fragile bandwidth that ties me to the outside world. Isolation so profound, I have come to peace with it. 

My phone has adopted a hush so unusual, my ears are having a hard time adjusting...

This involuntary isolation comes with a joyous ache of its own. With every drop of rain which finds its way onto the palm of my hand, a feeling stirs in my heart... Of longing.

A longing so earnest, time passes without want of recognition.

I am at peace, in August. I am at home.

The present is bliss untainted, the future tantalizes me. 

This month has been rightly named...'August.'  (The Caesar would've blushed.)

My tryst with August goes further down the memory lane, when a little girl would sit silently in wait of change, on her humble porch.. From what I recall, the torrents would come crashing down upon the stone floor... Ricochets and drops drenched those little arms, outstretched in anticipation of downpour.

What innocence, what exquisite, childish innocence...

Now, we have a young woman, leaning from a flowering fence, embellished in long-forgotten scars. The hair-line recedes in places, a semblance of suppressed strain. She has her arms outstretched still, but in want of escape. Strange, the passage of time, yet-

Rain is anticipation still, and anticipation slowly morphs in love, love into longing.

The fallen drops submerge the minuscule creatures in the Earth, still awakening from their summer slumbers. The Earth drinks greedily with its parched lips, savoring the dew-laden streams which make their way beguilingly through the cracks and crevices... An abnormal resurrection so confounded in normalcy. One by one, the leaves fall from the trees. 

Now the Earth is coated in a quilt of orange and black, still wet from the previous rains.

I cannot wait for autumn and its accompanying ache.

Then, comes winter.

Oh, to be wrapped in sweaters when wind pushes against you from all directions... To feel numb at the ears, still laugh with pleasure at the amassing cold...The icy wind, which pricks your nose and reddens your cheeks- a rare spectacle, a rare moment of beauty.

I can romanticize the coming times with every ounce of my breath, and all my elegies meant to eulogize these venerable seasons, but alas, this epistle shall end. With it, ends the ache in my heart to profess my love for the future.

Author's Note

Dear viewer,

This is to apologize for the delay in my post schedule, which was brought on my the aforementioned isolation.

I struggled to find words to express what I had to say today... I considered the following subjects for the post:

1. Augustus Caesar

2. Untainted Affection

3. Destroying Big Boss and other such useless means of entertainment with the power of Orwellian sorcery.

Regardless, they all lost to my lifelong love for this time of the year. Besides, the rain brings with it a lurid languor that becomes all-encompassing... You cannot blame me, can you?

⚜