Page 22 - The First Letter To My Lady.

21

M A R C H 2 0 2 1

Mid-teen crisis, is that a thing?

A non-college college life trudges on. A systemic decay of

inexorable proportions. A decadent system that’s something

of a cataclysmic blight - evading all rationale. But most of all,

an exercise in futility to sit down splitting hairs over. Instead,

let’s delve into the magic of colors and of festive jolly. As

Holi struts to the foray.

Festival of colors eh. Colors, they remind you of all things

vivid in life. Vivid – now that’s an adjective I’ve used before

– used before in your stead. A ladylike presence that evades

all rationale too – evading comprehension in the depths of

its magnitude. The magnanimity of a literary verve

flourishing tersely on the surface – but ever so torrentially at

the root of your spirit.

“But everyone talks, don’t they? There’s this fear, that I

wouldn’t meet her eye when the time comes”, king anxiety

always has his way with me. As that apprehension resonated

somewhere in the pit of my stomach I resigned behind the

guise of wordiness, as always I had. Why talk, when you can

write?