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November 27, 2016
My dearest Melody,
Time goes by slowly when the heart is in turmoil. Lately I have caught myself either staring at the ground, or peering a thousand miles into nothingness. There is little my eyes register. I can hardly recall the last time I have looked up to find a blue sky. Sheer endless seas of grey keep from me the world beyond ours, hiding the abundance of stars and constellations I so humbly desire to speak to. Even my beloved moon has become an obscurity, revealing her soothing glow only sparsely. Still, she is the last beacon of a greater freedom. You must think me daft, dear Melody, but this continuous shroud of grey makes me feel locked up; trapped in a crystal ball covered with dust. How odd it is to discern a dissatisfaction within oneself that simply states ‘the world is not enough’. Yet, isn’t that what hope is? The deep-rooted conviction that our current situation will turn out for the better, though hiddenly, also conveys the message that we could keep improving on what we currently have. I think that’s good. Hope, at the very least, keeps the fire burning in our hearts. It is what keeps us moving, and moving as such is fundamental to progress; the vital difference between existing and being alive. Perhaps that is why lately I have been so vulnerable to the gnawing of despair; why I miss looking at the sky, it represents hope to me. Hope, the first lesson you taught. For that I am ever grateful. My Melody, you could break the clouds with a single smile. You would keep me from peering a thousand miles into nothingness by simply pointing out the littlest things of beauty. Remember that bridge crossing the old city’s moat? Or those quaint bird houses you spotted way up high in a tree I could only perceive as barren? I do. It was at those times I felt blessed and honored to be by your side. To see the world through your eyes, no – to watch the world blossom as it gradually shaped itself to resemble your heart. Full of promise, hope, gentleness, and light. During these dreary days I think of you, my love. I see you in the little birds diving head first inside the almost empty jar of peanut butter I left in the yard; I see you in the little puffs of smoke that leave the chimneys of undoubtedly cozy homes; I see you in the moon’s soothing light, fighting the grey to meet my eye, and I am submerged in love. During these dreary days I think of you, and I hope, and I love, and I write to – you.
Yours faithfully,
M.A. Tempels © 2016 (Letters to Melody (2))
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