Kismet

The soft lull of the evening breeze gently caresses the atmosphere as he stands there, feet seeming to have been consumed by the fine granules of white sand as the waves begin to lash harder, the tide in its steady rise. To withdraw from reality and embrace nature, to feel closer to himself, to search his soul in an attempt to find the other half, the better half and restore greater meaning to a life lost in the unscrupulous, pseudo and plastic existence. To walk down memory lane and to relive those momentous moments or to lie ensconced in pensiveness, imagining a future much bright has become what is our present. The unequivocal reality of the day doesn’t seem approachable. Who could be that little elf who would at sometime, when unknown, cross daintily across his path? Would he know she was the one?

A thousand miles away, there she is, alighted coyly on a window seat, looking out askance. Life hadn’t been harsh, rather she hadn’t had herself acquainted with it. Surrounded by every little ‘objet de joie’ that one could think of, she couldn’t have been a happier being; cheerier than the little blue bird that sang an ode to joy each morn, or so she thought. Years passed on, in clear oblivion of reality, in a world where she thought she had found everything to keep her heart content. Only time did go on to tell her that there was a little something that was missing – something, though little, would make a difference life altering, something that would teach her the meaning of love and of being loved, of life and of living it and finally of all its concomitant problems.

Destiny would lead their immortal souls…