Monday, December 22, 2008

A Lot Like Love

The unsaid…that fragile form of thought. For most part, made of glass – destructive at times, decorative at others. Nevertheless, not something that can escape notice. It calls for attention louder than what was really said and heard… like how a piece of art in glass reflects sunlight from an obscure corner of the room and catches your eye even from that location. It is the more important part of the conversation – the ripe silence – that is hard to not read into and guess what was implied, what possibility lay ahead…

The unsaid can be hurtful things that the eyes convey while the lips have stopped saying long ago what they set out to say…like the scattered pieces of broken glass that make you bleed, like the mirror that shows you who you truly are when it comes as the unsaid and seen through another’s eyes.

But more often than not the unsaid is the things that bring beauty to your life like glass artefacts that decorate tastefully done homes.

It is a fragile vase. It can hold in it, flowers that can light up the day.

The unsaid is like those artfully crafted bottles of perfume. It is elegant and graceful. It holds a connoisseur’s dream inside. The unsaid can contain fragrance that would linger long after had it been said.

It is a glass windowpane. You can see right through it yet it prevents you from touching what is on the other side. You have to open the window sometimes…you have to say it. It is the vision that the unsaid brings upon parting the curtains that can make life beautiful. The window from where sunlight streams through into life…

It can be the glass prism that holds within itself the power to transform this ray of sunlight into colours. It takes just one unsaid potent thought like that and one beam of hope to fill someone’s life with colours.

The unsaid is a beautiful chandelier hanging from the ceiling…intricate in design, with so many angles to it, so many aspects. It holds all the light in the world within it and becomes awe-inspiring when lit. It is there for the people to see and to derive light from. It can spread light in life when it glows.

In this way of being a chandelier and in all the ways above, the unsaid is a lot like love… fragile and hurtful sometimes but mostly joyous, fragrant, colourful and the source of light.

In life, most things unsaid and very much the things that matter relate to love. What needs to be said remains unsaid with all its possibilities while we all make small talk with the ones we love.

And tonight as we make do with the artificial fluorescence of harsh white light in life, the beautiful, complex and the unsaid hangs in the room waiting to be lit and to illuminate our lives…like love… a lot like love.

1 Thinkers Pondered:

Asim said...

The unsaid is also ugly, the unsaid part of what you are thinking is mercilessly called tact; the unsaid thought is also the loser, for it is no different than shallowness to the world outside the mind; broken love also delves more on the unsaid than the said. If its beautiful, it should be said; in practice love may be long but true love is not, its the crest of the sine wave; the said can probably stretch this crest longer while the unsaid is an afterthought in the trough to represent usually regret.