The realization of your death came with an unusual sensation. It all happened in slow motion, time stretching towards infinity with every second passing, covering you with a thin layer of the past, present and, the future. It wasn't an extravagant moment, a moment of enlightenment or revelation. Nor was it a moment of great desolation or dejection. It came with a burst of "oh," out of your mouth, and it hung in the air like that, unmoving.
With the first ray of golden light coming in, a part of you seemed to have gone right out, floating away along with the last breeze of winter. And you watched it go, wondering if that part of yourself would ever heal back.
You always heard that spring was a season that birthed life into nature. But your heart felt like a dying tree at that moment, trapped for eternity in a cold winter of December, months away from spring. The warmth of beginnings couldn’t touch it no matter how much it reached out. So as a last resort of survival, you saw a tiny part of it wither away, fighting for the last chance at survival.
The first drop of tear came as his eyes were starting to close. It rolled down your cheeks just as he rolled into a deep, deep slumber.
He was an unaware little soul, a soul battered and bruised by the hands of your own. You cherished him like a prize, adored him like your favorite book, and loved him like he was where the creation of god took a peak.
But he was still unaware, unaware of the raging storm around you. Unaware of the rain you were drenched in. And Unaware of you, and your sudden death. Your eyes wouldn’t move from his face. But his face didn’t turn to see you.
You wished that you had learned how to wield the saber of words. Sharp and precise, it was a weapon that could slice without mercy in the most elegant of ways. You, a novice, never learned true mastery over it, always being scared of the wrath it was capable of bringing. Always being aware of the scars it left in its wake.
You guessed that's where you went wrong. This sense of awareness of yours. It was no blessing at times. The curse of it seemed to have trapped your throat with an iron grip. So words never came out. And the freedom or recklessness, stayed out of your grasp.
As you watched a part of you vanish into the air, you thought about it again. Wondering if you had mastery over it for once, if it could've saved you from this sudden disintegration. But thoughts seemed to be slipping out of your grasps as well, falling out of you like sand.
The nights were spent staring at the ceiling of your cold dark room in silence. Hence it was why you had always loved dawn. The way it took the darkness away, illuminating your surroundings and bringing you back to reality, you liked that about it.
But now, even dawn seemed to have turned its back on you.
You no longer know what reality is. The first ray of light seemed to have lost the comforting touch it had on you.
So as time moved, you just stared at the ceiling of your cold, yet bright room, in utter and complete silence. Wondering, if that part of yourself that died, would ever heal back.