Somewhere far far away, beyond the realm of allure and distaste, exists a small bench. I will meet you there, to wipe away the clouds of doubts from your mind. We will sit there, beneath the very sky which refused to house you in the night and was tired of me staring at it desperately. We shall sit and look in different directions, thinking ten different things, and yet rounding up on similar tones. We shall sing the same songs in our mind, for I am a million times a better singer in my head. We shall gently move and touch each others’ hands, sparking an emittance, like two different vines intermingling behind our backs as the sun sets.
Somewhere far far away, far from the highway of judgement, exists a small rickshaw. I will sit with you in it, and we will travel to the land of books. We will set on a journey that either of us planned, but neither of us will forget. We will tear past those very eyes which never saw us break but will glare as we try to join ourselves back together. We shall travel by lakes and buildings, plains and plateaus, and end at a bookstore in the hills. And on a small house between the hills, I will read words to you as you drift off to sleep, and wake up to a warm mountain sun on your face. As I walk out on the verandah, the sun greets me as it always does, with the contempt someone lonely gives to a person in affectionate company.
Somewhere far far away, above the smoke of who’s whose, is a small canteen. I will meet you there, and we will have sandwiches. We will have a discourse none of us thought would happen in such capacity. We will marvel at the differences in our past, and then ponder about the similarities in our future – until one of us realises to live in the present. It is then we realise there exists nothing like the present, the second you mention as present is already in the past, and the next one will also be when you get to talk about it. We will then realise how pointless time can be, within eyes, within minds, and within souls. And as we live then, we realise that the present is nothing but something that is felt, as you feel time dawdling away. As we leave then, we understand that this night will forever be ours, as you feel the time running away.
Somewhere far far away, away from the land of loss, is a solitary Uber, I will take you in it, deep into the night, to liberate the fears in you. We shall move into the backseat, shuffle our playlists and play a song – one in particular which I had lost in the labyrinth of my mind. As it plays I put my head on your shoulder, and your humming vibrates within me. We gently breathe into that shared space, a warmth within the cold of the night engulfs us, with two vines perfectly wound perfectly and tightly, as the sun rises gently, announcing the dawn of us.
The night sky will then accept you with a smile, and the hilly sun will be friends with me again. The time will stop and the night will be ours, as the vines hold each other as tightly as ever.
Somewhere far far away, I will meet you.
I will meet you there.