kalo ‘smi loka-ksaya-krt pravrrdho
I
am Kala (time), destroyer of all things.
-Bhagavad-Gita (11.32)
…And it’s only now,
well into my twentieth year that I am beginning to think that I probably won’t
live forever.
So, it seems that
without realizing it, I have grown, life has passed, and my true childhood had
ended – perhaps even long ago. Actually, everything I always feared has come.
Everyone has followed different paths, and that golden glow we built together
has been left behind. Only now am I finally beginning to realize that it is
really gone, and may never return. Life has passed while I wasn’t looking. Now
all that is left is the footprints – old memories. But what good are memories
when there is no one with whom to share them? They become like a book of old
photos on the shelf; their dusty blankets telling the story of a forgotten
past. Eventually, the moths will come, and nothing will be left except a few
faded images that time just couldn’t digest.
I want to make
memories again.
Ones that can be
shared – laughed or cried about with someone, instead of being locked up;
time’s lonely prisoners, never understood by anyone but myself. Maybe I am in
need of comfort again. And familiarity. Family and friends. Maybe I need
someone to love me. And even more, someone to give my love to. Maybe I am a
little lonely sometimes. Maybe I finally have something to say and no one to
say it to.
Maybe I am a little
homesick.
But maybe I will
give it another day. Because I am sure I have no choice. I am longing for a
home that no longer exists – one that can never be rebuilt. I can’t take back
the days. I can’t reclaim certain shores that time has eroded – some washed
away completely. I can only go forward, and I must do it now. I must begin to
build new castles before the tide comes in again.
