Talk To You - Spring

 

The long cold winter days are finally over. Today, stepping out of the winter shelter, I suddenly saw beautifully blossomed flowers on the edge of the streets, realizing in a daze that you have come back, haven't you - Spring ?

Actually, I have never loved you, not even just once. We have never been lovers, even though once every year, you come back to pay me a visit devotedly, loyally, tirelessly.

Probably more than once, you have been in the sulk and blamed me for being passionately in love with Fall while your beauty is not any less than hers. I don' t know how to tell you about my first attaching love, the love which one cannot forget for ages. I have fallen in love with Fall as a destiny, as an unchangeably ages-ago arrangement. How extraordinarily passionate and seductive the yellow color dusky with twilight. Moreover, probably with the disassociating color of fall, I have suddenly realized a sympathy of my life. I still remember those months and days when I lived in confinement among the barbed -wire fences of a forbidden camp. Every late afternoon, I looked upon the far-away horizon where twilight was going to set, to trust an endless hopelessness, and also illusory and fanciful dreams: a new world would be born from extremely devastating evening.

Also more than once, you have been in the sulk turning your head away when I was passionately telling you about a friend - Winter , about utmost freeze. You said you could not blossom in the human heart-stiffing freeze. You said you found no seduction hidden in the dark grey sky with purple clouds. I know how come you could understand mysteries of life while your life's luggage was just packed with freshly pink dresses, while with careful make-up you have been scornful to people day in and day out. How come you knew that flowers could not blossom if yellow leaves didn't drop in fall, if trees didn't get bare in winter to make room for buds and shoots to burst. Freeze is as needed for life as warm sunlight and spring sky.

And so you kept on being in the sulk and I kept on being indifferent. We have never been lovers, even though once every year, you come back to pay me a visit devotedly, loyally, tirelessly.

Actually there have been a few times in my life when you stayed with me longer than a moment, long enough to escort me to the boundary of consciousness and intoxication where reality and dream had an intercourse with heaven-and-earth shaking pleasures. But after the short moments of passion, you left hurriedly leaving me in loneliness to the lonely reality. World of dreams is eternally an unreachable far-away station.

And just like that you come and go repeatedly: in a hurry, without attachment. We would never be lovers.

3/26/2010

Jeffrey Thai