Pencils And Sticks

This never gets easier, when we stand at the banks of a river and write the closest of secrets that we have, we are certain that we are writing them for just a moment. But at least we have tried to expose our hearts to the open. And when we sit in the safety of our rooms and write in our journals, the same secrets, we are sure that we have written them for a lifetime and that even though we exposed our hearts to hide them again, we have helped paint them out. The question then is, shall we expose to all for a moment, or to none for a lifetime?

That is what we are, individuals writing. When we see a family sharing a moment of laughter, some wonder how any family could afford the lightness of heart that could lead to that, while others will simply be reminded of the many light moments they have held. There are a many moments in our lives when we are writing on the sand and a many more still when we are writing in our dairies but when we write on the hearts of men, we write in neither places and our writings do not make us pencils or sticks, they simply make us eternal.

Forever is written in the hearts of men and when we make inscriptions on their hearts, we make many more on our own hearts and while we let others live on in us, we allow ourselves to live on in them. Time has never bound a man whose aim was to live in the lives of others and it will not start now.

The plague of our time is that we are so scared to write on the hearts of others, because in doing so we write on our own. And it is still not clear whether we scare ourselves in writing to ourselves or we are scared of being seen by those others writing. Living is meant to be a beautiful thing, one that does not only reward but that also adds beauty to those that choose it over everything else and yet many of us want to create the beauty before we can eventually live.

In our hands we have the ability to hold pencils and sticks and in people we have both the river banks and the diaries and of course that other option. When we wait for beauty to be given first before we can live, we are robbing our lives of the grace that comes with living first. When we love because of what we are getting, we deny ourselves the beauty that comes when we love whole heartedly, when we watch Love add to us, to those that loved.

The many tasks that call for our attention leave us with but very few options to devote our hearts to what truly matters. We set to achieve all our ambitions and many times in the bid to do that, we trample many and ignore several, but in all our living, we are writing, and while some have opted to keep their writings to themselves, we can never truly escape the need to write.