Ruhdaari- The light of the soul

The Light of Hope

To be the muse or to be the one who beholds the musings,

To laugh in adversities or to be the one who stands tall beyond the mockings.

Staunching in her stance, she is silent strides fought a battle no one knew,

In the beauty of ethereal sincerity, she hid her pain in the depths of poetry weaved under its sinew.

Her eyes were oozing out pain in tearful glances as she looked at herself in the mirror, with every sparse stain of kindness that was left in her escaped into thin air and that was left was unbearable pain, the throbbing in her heart that cried for giving another chance and her mind confounded in conundrums of leaving and the myriad of anomalies that could have forged in the footsteps of time did not walk the way they did. Only if the trail they left in their permanence, could be rewalked, could be resurrected into the dripping sweetness of nostalgic times, of moments that laughed in the mirth of innocence and love. But alas as she laid with the broken pieces of her naivety on the kitchen floor, she glanced at the sword that rendered her soul lifeless.

Alaya lived in a town that was akin and becalled for its joyous connection and celebration of life. Her childhood was filled with sweet yarns of true and Elysian love, ushers of dreams of beauty, beckoning in the cacophonies of a world that dwelled in the goodness of faith and gleams, she was the light of every soul that in her presence healed their painful screams. In the foresight of the ancient wisdom, she was destined to change the world, to deem the prowess of her might and to be the radiance of hope when the spirit throbbed in hours of plight. In the ballad of mortal being, she nurtured the breaths of joy and ease of those around her, as she discovered the mystic charm of the omnipresent uncertainty that fostered its vitality. With the steadfast strides of the hammered wheels of time, Alaya grew into the force that reflected the chastity of the divine. Unaware of the power she held, she strode into the unknown land of the dead.

As she marched on her way back to her abode, the darkness of abandoned looms struck her on the road. Darkness surrounded her very eyes, she clutched onto the peonies of hope in her heart. With every step that she treads upon, the storm grows in its intense glare. Announcing in loud echos, they said

Amor in its deepest revenge serves the warmth of its brevity cold,

Cupid that danced its way into our soul rendered our soul with a story untold.

Once the sunshine that rid its rainbows in their galore

Alas, the summer that thawed the ice that lies sings in us no more.

There is innocence in your eyes that speaks in glaring echoes,

Yet we must warn thee, for what lies ahead belies to be the question,

Whose answer no one knows?

To her dread, Alaya jolted from the bed and cried in tears of terror as she couldn't understand what was said. Putting on a brave face as she went to work, yet the words echoed in her mind. As she returned home from work that day, she met a mysterious old woman with a broken hind. Kindness ran in the depths of her soul and she helped the lady to walk, trepidation finally reached its goal. The mysterious woman stood in her bemoaned glory, as she expressed her gratitude to Alaya for healing her misery. Alaya stood in complete discrepancy, before she could question the unexpected syllables recorded in their majestic flair, the lady disappeared out of thin air. Returning to her home, she dived into the deep introspection of her own.

If kindness can heal the virtue of humanity and if love can save the dwindling ship of dejected breaths, maybe I hold the power to heal, to feed the hearts that are void of generosity they once bled. The gift to heal the world around us felt like a boon to Alaya, as she presented the dying spirit of humanness with the generosity of spirit.

In her quest to heal the ones that were sad and sour, she became their shining star in their darkest hour. Sometimes with words, while at the other end with her hands, she poured every ounce of her life to place seeds of felicity in dark sands. But to her dismay, she was unaware of the fallacy of her impermanence that her permanent service held, for holding a lamp for others and being left stranded in the chaos she in silence dealt.

Maybe it was the divinity of protection of the eternal source that ushered its way to pave the metamorphosis that was long called, as Alaya the light of healing- turned her light as she drowned in the pitfall. On the fated day as she was on her way in her healing endeavours, she held her lamp and embraced the one with throbbing pain, only to be left with etches of engraved disdain. The man she loved to her dimwits end, accused her of malice and entitlement. He threw her lamp away and charged towards her, with the lamp in his hand, he bled all the light that encompassed her. Though she was light, she was also the blazing of the silent thunderstorm that struck when hurt enough, before he could charge another blow, with the bleeding scars she held the broken piece of her enlit lamb and smashed his head against the glow.

As she lay on the kitchen floor with broken pieces of her soul laying with the love that once gave her existential meaning now lying dead, she looked at the mirror with every left piece of remorse as she banged its head. The epiphany of the hovering looms fortified to be true, as the ache of empirical bane hid under her sinew. Alaya picked herself up as she burned every last piece of her past that ceased to die, shedding her old skin she succumbed to the deception of amor that once in hope belied. Leaving the town that was once her home now felt like a cage that leashed, she raced on her horse to the horizon where the ends of the world meet.

Screaming on top of her remorse that cried, she questioned the gods for the animosity that brewed inside. A sight to behold, a picturesque of immortality drew, as the goddess of love and light, Aphrodite appeared in the beauty of morning dew. Alaya screeched for the answers she yearned for. The goddess smiled and said, My dear child, I know your heart is hurting and I know every crevice of your being is in pain, but the purpose of your soul is bigger than your existential name.

Perplexed in her stance, Alaya could not understand the proposition of Aphordite’s words. The goddess smiled as she continued,

Even in your suffering, in every tear that spread a smile,

The light you encapsulated rippled into abundant joy in an infinite mile.

Even the darkness that you thought ended the existence of thee,

Was the healing that the soul was seeking in its precipice to be free?

The love of your life was destined to die at your hands as his soul was afilled with sin,

And to seek redemption from its wrongdoings, fate had chosen to hold you akin.

Destiny runs in its trail that imprints its permanence in the entities that human eyes cannot see. The purpose you hold beholds to be the light that fosters the duality of good and those who can't be. Alaya had tears in her eyes as she heard the words of the almighty. Maybe the light of hope and goodness is not always about being the warmth in the darkest hours, sometimes it is about being a lesson of courage, a lesson of aching truth, a lesson of letting go and most importantly a lesson of redemption, to liberate ourselves from the existential pain that we may or may not deserve and to let go of what was.

To make space for what is and what is about to come