ZARA M.

Dear Heart, A farewell to September it is. A last night of a month that gave me so much: you, tenderness, heartsickness, and nostalgia at times.  As your presence had lingered with me throughout the months, in September, I felt no difference. Every leaf talked about you, the moon asked about you. The sunshine gave your reflection, clouds reminded of you, and the rainbows displayed the very features you embody.  A little sparrow on my window still alluded to you, and remained my companion as I spoke of you. Every book I read gave me thrills of you, and the shivers that ran through my body every time your name crossed my mind.    Until September comes back with you, Bye. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  Today, it is a cold breeze with light rain. Dancing trees and dark clouds; winter has almost started. As the peak months of July and August have passed, the peak wintery months are now ready to arrive in full swing.  I believe that this winter is going to be special, with you in my mind and extra fudge by my side. My admiration for you beats words and every dreamy confections. I consider you a delicate, edible luxury, though out of my reach, you are too valuable not to keep close to my little heart.  Sending you today bundles of sugar-kissed pleasures, while I watch the rain pouring and find calmness in its little drops and icy whispers. Bye.     ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  Each time I drop words on paper for you, it fills my heart with flowers: lilies, roses, Arabian jasmine, and all those with ethereal fragrance. An honest sneak peek: they remind me of your fragrance; it carries something of yours: flowery, woody, and with an endless touch of vanilla.  Before you, my soul had been fond of flowers, but after you, it admires only one: you. You are a floweret of my garden and a whole posy for me, enough for a lifetime.  Today's clouds make my heart hanker for your presence. Though I am making peace with your absence, you are sorely needed for my heart.    ~Zara M.

Dear Heart, There are some names we speak aloud, and there are names we keep quietly tucked away in the deepest chambers of our hearts. Dostoevsky wrote the name of his beloved 138 times, and not once his own name. I have not mentioned yours a single time. But every time, I have mentioned mine. The world knows my beloved only through the cute nicknames I have given him; the name written in the world’s records has never crossed my lips. But the sun knows. The moon and the stars know. The rainbows and the skies, the flowers and the trees, all are aware that it is you. Hoping for the day when you, too, know that it is you. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  Peaches Waking up to your name blesses my whole day, as it is like a prayer that graces my life with life. As time passes, the line grows blurred between whether it is you in reality or you in my imagination. Whatever it is that I am experiencing, I am joyous to love your presence, even the thought of your presence.  My sun rises with you, and it sets with you. With the lapse of time, my universe has started to rise and set with you.  As long as the stars keep brightening the skies, I will keep waking up to the prayer of your name.  ~Zara M.

You are alive,  feel the sun, the sun-kiss; talk to the moon, let it turn blue; watch shades of sunsets, let them seep into you. You are alive, feel the air filling your lungs, look upon the flowers growing young; hear the melodies the birds have sung. You are alive, visit dense forests, praise nature; linger over rainbows, bask in treasure; sit under the skies, settle your pleasures. You are alive now, cherish the blessings,  and settle the distressing. You will not forever be young; nor will life forever remain. ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  Cocoa & Comfort I read somewhere today that "love, it is mad and holy, like Dostoevsky." I feel like I am travelling the same road. I feel madness and holiness both at the same time. Writing to you out of frenzied emotion and devoting my entire being to you as though you are sacrosanct.  Reading White Nights years back makes sense to me now. The dreamer was perhaps loving in his subconsciousness, no reality of Nastenka existed but his love was purer than the pure, and the heartbreak was born from loving something that could never fully belong to him.  Tasting the warmth of cocoa reminds me the warmth your sweetest soul always extended towards me. I consecrate my heart to you, I worship you with the whole of my being, and write to you like it is scared.  I have often heard that love itself is a religion; I am experiencing it. If love is a religion, then perhaps I have found my faith in you, and I do not know how to stop believing.    ...

For Mala who stayed through every season. You are a sunflower  I have always loved,  My eternal companion,  a bond time never moved. You have hung around,  far longer than I ever found. Always stood, always listened, never judged, never withered.  You have witnessed  me becoming ashes  gathering cinders,  and leaving me resurrected. All the dark paths I have traversed, it was you beside me, when the world felt reversed. No one could gather the pieces I had become;  it was you who made me whole, one by one. Every time I came undone, I found you when I had none. You comforted me like a sparrow sheltering its chick, and I became all wings.     ~Zara M.

Dear Heart,  Once the stars finally align, once the moon slips into blue, and once the extraordinary happens, perhaps the universe finally softens for us, too. Or maybe, we simply become accustomed to separation with time.  Swinging between acceptance and refusal, anger and peace, hope and hopelessness; life feels heavy on the heart. Indeterminacy prevails, but every reddish-golden sunrise reminds me of prettiness the world offers to cherish. Though, I have always sought to admire it together, there is one thing I am certain of: we are both admiring the beauty of nature, from our separate corners of the world.    Perhaps, the world keeps giving us the same sunsets, only in different skies. ~Zara M.