The night is quiet and empty

I used to like nights like these – quiet, empty ones. But it feels now as if they are just too quiet and all too empty. Peace, one can savor for only so long before it creates a deep longing in the heart. And yet, a longing for what?

I cannot know for sure what is it that afflicts me at this juncture of life. Satisfaction seems to elude me like a shadow eluding its owner. I try to find it everywhere in my life, and there certainly have been times before where I had contented myself with the small, often overlooked pleasures and in them found satisfaction. And yet, now, they seem to have all disappeared; faded like coatings of gold over a plain pebble. I have lost all my illusions.

Perhaps, I have all the while been trying to find contentment in places apart from the one whence truly I sought to derive it. But that place, I know, is lost and irretrievable, and to find another so alike and that so enraptures is.. difficult.

“Pleasure disappoints but possibility never” – If only I could see the possibilities in the darkness of the night; in the quiet and empty, and find again the satisfaction in tasting the wine of life.


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