She stared for long at the blank page. The page, filled with the void of words that wouldn't flow out of her heart. She had the words somewhere within her. Like clouds brimming with the yet to be rain, her heart tried to bear the heat of the words she couldn't give voice to. They formed images. Abstract, yet every atom of it made sense. Atleast to her. The words.
She envied the artists; the brush strokes, that would lead them to a heaven of contentment. The canvas. The palette. They were but foreign to her. And the ink that kept her alive, today, seemed dry. Words were evading her.
She sealed the cap of her pen. What if the ink flows out when alone? What if they ripple to form the words she concealed from the world? What if?
A walk. Fresh air and the world to look at. That was all she craved for right now. And the lake was always her haven. With the bright darkness of the night by her side, she walked.
Sitting on the edge of the bridge, her legs swaying to the duet sung by the solemn zephyr and the coy ripple, she gazed at the world and the lights that flickered. The world that rushed never to halt for a moment to live this beauty. The beauty, the world wanted to capture in cameras for the future. The beauty they forget to live. The world seeming no more than blinking neons. Mere points, yet poignant. The world that exist beneath the very clouds as her, but had never seen the clouds. Never known the heartbeats of the lake that silently lived by.
She sat there hand in hand with silence. An entity the world never knew existed. Silence. The one who sought their company to always end up disappointed for they found a better ally in turbulence. Silence.
Like an answer to a call from somewhere within, she stood.
The leaves that flew in the air had always fascinated her. And now she could imagine how light they felt. How free were they? As much as she was. Now.
And within moments she explored a different world. The world of water she had seen only from the surface. The same water that had reflected her. Would it reflect her from inside too? She would find out. Soon.
Finding answers always thrilled her.
Why this leap into the unknown, the world will muse. And tell tales of how sad it was. But within the sonnets they craft for her never would they sing how much she loved her life. How much she loved herself. And how much dear to her was freedom. The freedom life beyond the skies of this world gave her. The freedom that unpinned her wings to fly above the world that wanted to cage her.
Dear world understand, but love was in many ways strange.
And the words that evaded her, they died too. To be heard never.