Anonymous

Sometimes, my heart gets filled with grudge; with sorrow and anger. I feel the taste of my anger on my tongue. A feeling of suspicion falls onto my heart, like dirt on white! At that moment, I open up all the books, photos, notes and memories that reminds you, to remember who I am. Remembering is a secret prayer for me.

I was just a lifeless decoration on your cold walls, before her light hit me. I was only a dusty violin foreign to its sound, before she hit my chords with her string. I would become a lifeless decoration if she built walls again.

I see vineyards, orchards, trees in her hands. I see waters as broad as oceans, as lucid as oceans. I see my paradise in her hands. I take my rests under the trees in her hands. You cannot see any of these.
I know who I am; yet does she know that she is my sunlight? If she doesn't, let her not know.

I am a piece of spark twirling around the fire. I am a unicorn whose wings melts as it flies towards sun; and whose heart get frozen if starts to fall down. I am me. Her twirling spark, her slave, her fellow.. We found each other on a road we started from different locations towards different destinations; and lost each other on battle fields. We passed not cities, roads, seasons; but our lives.

I turn around and look at the past, everyting has past. What's left is only love; I keep reminding myself again and again. I do it because, I want to make sure I will be saying her name when death hits me in my last seconds of life.

Muhtesem Yuzyil | The Magnificent Century