On the table sits my remarkably simple diary. The ink has sewn my history into a beautiful garment of remembrance. Much has been written and much still left. There is absolutely nothing in it that I would like to change. All the good, the bad and the ugly. They are mine and I shall accept it with grace. The folded pages of my life are the milestones upon which I stand. These are the milestones in my journey of becoming the man I am now and the man I am yet to be.
Often when I revisit these folded pages, I find myself searching for the ones that I am hesitant to go deep into. The reluctance of my heart drowns me in the deep waters of the unknown. I gasp for breath, fighting with all that I have and all that remains to swim back to the surface. The more I try, the more I am pushed into its depths. The water surrounds me, and I am haunted by the worthlessness of my life. The darkness finds congruence with my worst fears. I look at the sun speckled surface from below, and I find hope. It gives me new strength. The time has come to unfold the page. It’s amazing as to how you find yourself in hope. Of how against all odds; of all the things that failed you; of all the things you knew you never wanted to do, but you did, you recover. When the epitaph will read your name, there will still be many folded pages. Many things will remain unsaid, and till the end of time its silence will persist.
Time is mischievous in its deeds and we are all deceived by its sanctity. But this does not doom your life meaningless. What little we did, what little we saw, we felt, we spoke, all of it did mean something. Our folded pages are not some scars to be covered up. Our folded pages are the lights, which liberates us from the chain of darkness concurrently creating shadows.
My journey is long. I will need these folded pages to keep moving ahead, to find the strength, the courage to keep pursuing the eternal dream of my soul. While treading the path, many more pages I will fold. When hopes dwindle, I will find escape in them. In these recurring escapes, my hope will be renewed. And at the end, if there is any such end, I will bow down and let it go. There will be no words of gratitude, no sign of farewell, all that will be is silence. The soil will be turned over. New flowers will bloom some day.