My Precious

I am loving this phase. I haven't had to look hard for a reason to smile. All I need is to rewind and replay a memory, one so powerful that it belittles every other that has elapsed in the past. How long are its effects going to last? I am hoping at least this life time. That is being conservative in my estimate.

Nevertheless, my growing dependence on it worries me, but I wish to do nothing about it. It is the dependence that is the source of joy, which is as real as the first ray of sunlight. The joy is unconditional and boundless, has truly no strings attached.

Is it a dream? Possibly, yes. Such happiness can only emanate in a Utopian world, a fictitious wonderland, which is stuff of reverie. But then I pinch myself to check if it is for real. The thought vanishes momentarily but the feeling stays. I reassure myself that I am right. I am doing what not many others have done. I am living my dream, pursuing my personal legend.

Have I achieved my personal legend? No. What I have attained is the key to the door that leads me to it. I have a mirror that shows me the truth and the difference between truth and reality.

It appeases the vanity of my soul. It is that which can hear the voice of my heart and make me hear it when I am amidst deafening noise. With it, I can fall, but not fall back. With it, I can lose, but not lose heart.

It makes me strong. It is my precious.