for you

dedicated to izha

i. love spreads out of you. this world's a slice of bread, its jam drips against the hardwood floor. don't you see the sum of compassion you've granted? people sought only for merit, yet you offered them divine grace.

see this kneaded dough, made by those palms of yours. have they not hefted enough sharp pebbles? have they not dispelled too much turmoil life has thrown at you? yet, you made a plateful of fragrant cake out of it, feed people with sweets you've made from scratch. you're made of intricate emotions that are not as easy to be laid bare as the way you smear your butter.

worry not, dear one, we've got plenty of time to figure it out as we wait for your batter to rise.

ii. glimmer of sunray against oceanic water has you mesmerized. has the world not offered enough letters for you to speak in languages of the deities? to the cedars lining up against your grandmother's fence? to the sun at 8 a.m., of which makes your cheeks turn into rosy blush? to the driftwood you found by the shore, aimlessly afloat? to the nature and marvels presented by this hometown you longed for?

either you have always held a wonder in your eyes or you haven't returned for so long. breathe in the air; is the salty scent enough to make you stay? breathe out; is it enough to make you realize you're made of fragments this town is known for?

iii. you're made of ears, darling, always have been. “attention is the most basic form of love,” tara brach once said. “by paying attention we let ourselves be touched by life (...),”

watch how the fireworks above spark for you in this early night. as the moon wanes and the sound of night grows louder, let the god mold lips onto your skin. it's your time to speak. it's your time to lure, it's your time to lament, it's your time to love.

i'll listen.

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happy birthday, izha. there's no a single dull day knowing you.

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references: a tweet from @.moondropism