Cogito Ergo Sum

I am not a grain of sand
At the mercy of your river wild
I am not a falling leaf
To be blown away by your raging storm
I am not the grieving earth
To be trampled upon by your conquering feet
I am not the bleeding hills
Carved hollow by the chisel in your hand
I resist, therefore I am.
Cogito, ergo sum.

I am the rolling waves
That crash upon your shores.
I am the unshed tears
That drown your weary soul
I am the silent melody
You cannot help but hum.
I am the deep, I am the dark
All your light can never hide.
I touch, therefore I am.
Cogito, ergo sum.

I am not the Mona Lisa
Meant to adorn your walls.
I am not a poem
To be praised by your lips.
I am not the garden rose,
That blooms just for you.
I am not yours to keep,
Neither to protect.
I feel, therefore I am.
Cogito, ergo sum.

The Clock Strikes Twenty

17th July 2007. Today was the beginning of the end. The end of my teenage years, that is. I was on the phone today in the morning when suddenly I realized that today was officially my last day on planet earth as a teenager. By this tomorrow, I would be 20 years old. My mother marked this very special day by giving me a present she promised she’ll never ever give me again: A lollipop.

Whew! Never knew that seven years can zip right past you like a Porsche-driving celebrity being chased by the paparazzi. If the theory of relativity is to be believed, that means I quite enjoyed the most volatile years of ones life. And I just ain’t talking about zits that appear over night.

I remember being really excited about turning 13 years old. Finally I’d get the chance of watching a movie without G or PG certification. It was also at my 13th birthday party that I first had a real conversation with a classmate I had hardly spoken to previously. We have been best friends ever since that day.

My last was also special in a more markedly teenagish way. I couldn’t stop giggling (since I’m too tanned to blush) on receiving a present from a guy I had a crush on at that point of time. Thankfully another glimpse of Ralph Fiennes in The English Patient made further developments in that direction out of the question.

So what does being twenty really feel like? Will I turn into a totally different person tomorrow as soon as the morning sun announces the demise of my teen year?

Nah…..I really don’t think so.

Can’t really imagine a single extra digit changing the things I love, the things I hate and the things I’m still in the process of discovering. For starters, I don’t think I’ll exclaim any softly every time I see a squirrel (Oh ma! Cho Cweet!). And I’ll still steal ice from the refrigerator every time I can sneak past mum. The all-important decision of what to wear to college is still gonna be confusing as I stand in front of my wardrobe each morning. In spite of my cupboard overflowing I still don’t have anything to wear. Macro-economics might still be mind boggling, but that’s one thing I do want to change about life on the other side of twenty. And my faith in the One I trust isn’t gonna change any time soon.

Im hoping some confusions will clear themselves out. But I guess new questions will always arise. Hey, I managed to survive twenty years. Haven’t done too bad a job till now, even though my mum claims it was mostly her and lady luck. Well this time, I hope to not just survive, but thrive.

As a friend said, I can pass off as a school-kid for at least seven more years. I’m not really sure whether he meant it as a compliment, but I guess it means that I still have my entire teenage waiting before me. I just hope its gonna be minus the zits this time.

Angel

What do you keep looking for, child?
What is it that you seek,
But never seem to find?
Why does the answer always elude you,
When it stares you in the eye?
You longed for the stars, now they are yours
Yet you still see only mud.
Will you ever know what you really need,
And not just what you want?

You said you needed shelter
Protection from the beating rain
A pair of arms to hold you close
And never let go again.
But when those arms wrap you tight
You want to run away.
They lock you in, you cannot breathe,
----- Is that what you wanna say?

You let him in
You tell him things
You feel his soothing touch.
But when the spark becomes the fire,
Child, you think too much.

Before he’s the first to leave,
You catch the train to the coast.
You hold him close, before letting go
Then you cut him where it hurts the most.

You’ll never be anyone’s angel, child.
Just wings aren’t enough to carry you home.
If you want to fly, you have to trust the wind

And really, truly want to soar.