Once dry, but never dead.

For a long time I dwelled in tranquility. My master used to hide me beyond the depths of her forsaken soul, as though I am lifeless...as though she thought I never existed. She never questioned my presence, but her angst and indifference conditioned me to be seemingly motionless, dry and probably dead.

She held in me a prisoner of her own doubt, of her own strength , of her own weakness...and of her own bitterness. She has shamefully secluded me for a long time. Yes, she made me ignorant of reality. I was a symbol of my master's desolation. But little did I know that she silently suffered as her stillness and optimism protected from this cruel world.

The moment she allowed me to breath, was a point of facing reality in the raw...not only for her, but for me as well. Slowly, as I drew back from nothingness, I began to perceive what was concealed... what was kept for a long time... what was real.

I heard his voice. I heard him say goodbye. My master tried to be still, she tried to be calm, but nevertheless the bitterness of parting drowned her being, as though it possessed her and as though it chained her soul. For the first time I realized who my master is. She was not an object of weakness, but a symbol of strength. She was not an object of hate, but a symbol of love... but even though she loved, fate wasn't just kind to her. The man who touched her heart, seemingly broke it too.

I was not amazed by her grief. I was not amazed by her bitterness, but rather I was amazed at how she accepted reality...how she took in all the pain, how she managed to say "goodbye and just be happy with her" with utmost sincerity, and most of all, I was deeply amazed at how she managed to let go of him, without hesitation, but with the willingness of a bold soul. Even if she knew he deceived her... she returned him the boundless understanding which he never deserved. Eventhough I never heard it, I knew she loved him.

Deliberately, she allowed me to breath. I realized I wasn't dead, but I was just kept. I realized I never really existed, until she created me. Since right that very moment, when I perceived that she was my creator. I realized how favored I was to have been conceived in her midst. I, grateful than ever, began comforting her as though I was a delineation of hope, I told her to just let go, and that she deserves someone better. Wanting to somehow ease her pain, I told her that life has to go on, with or without him and that she should let go of love, because she doesn't own it. I told her it will come back when it wills. and that someone out there is truly meant for her, and that it might be him, only she has to wait. And as though she heard everything that I said, she took a deep breath... and slowly, she touched me... and kept me in her midst, where I know I will dwell forever...

I am now dry... and maybe dead.
But I was the tear, which she once brought to life...
I used to be the symbol of her desolation, of her weakness, and of her bitterness...
and now that I am dead... I am a symbol of her acceptance, of her love... and probably of the reality she once tried to conceal...
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wrote this a few years ago...feels weird...hehe