Spent.

The sun shone just fine today. All bright and cheery like a big ol’ globe of gold-hued joy hovering above the atmosphere. The sky too, all azure and turquoise and shadowed with cotton-white frothy clouds, seems to be ripped right out of an optimistic dream. A wind that blows calm and cool, gently lapping the waves on any given body of water, inducing the intoxication of celestial serenity upon any one who stops long enough to be ravished by nature at its seductive best.

It’s a brilliant day alright. A day that hovers in nostalgic recollection when the sky is tinged red, and the wind blows as if with unequivocal fury, blowing the bullet sized drops of water falling from the heavens as if shot by a hundred billion ballistic angels . Yes, in the days of god’s wrath upon earth, in the darkened mornings colored in grays and reds, as we tremble with every lightening bolt and shudder with the whistle of the howling wind, we recall such a day to remind ourselves of the existence of sunshine. This too shall pass is what we need to believe, and the vision of such a day is what allows us to believe in that most surreal of all clichés.

It has religious connotations for the righteous, a gift from the almighty for the unprecedented goodness displayed by his/her disciples. Romantic connotations for those seeking divine benediction for new found love.

A million different meanings to a million different people. One sun, one sky, a handful of clouds and an entire encyclopedia of interpretations for whoever witnesses it.

For me, it’s maybe the fifth or sixth time witnessing a day this spectacular. For me, it’s no different than any other day.

No different than the white hot summer days of Lahore, devoid of clouds or wind or anything even remotely comforting, as we soldier on to our respective duties regardless of the river of sweat flowing down our backs.

No different than the almost black morning skies of Houston, thick with precipitation and smog and pelted by rain fall of catastrophic intensity with funnel clouds abound and all the radio stations blaring hurricane advisory broadcasts, while I make my pizza delivery rounds to the people with sense enough to order in.

No different than the soft grey Virginia winter days, that bring snow cascading down upon the ill-prepared inhabitants. Too cold to walk, too slick to drive, best to lay abandoned in your one room apartment, the oven on high heat with the door open due to the lack of money enough to buy a proper heater.

No different alas, than any other day that I have ever lived through. There is neither divine benediction for me, nor a reward for uncharacteristic piety. There is nothing new about the way this day unfolds.

Somehow, I fail to remember a life before you.

Somehow, everything that became a part of my history lives only in the memories of those who shared it with me.

To me, there was only waiting before you. And lamenting after.

And so, when I witness today with eyes forever colored by the shades of your being, the black, the brown, the tan, the purple and the pink that you borrowed from the palette of nature and made your own, this day is no different than any other.

It’s just as devoid of emotional lucidity as yesterday was. Just as incomplete as tomorrow will be.

Turns out, that the beauty in life lay not in the fluffiness of the clouds or the depth in the color of the sky, but in knowing through thunderstorms and hurricanes, and even spring showers, that I Belonged to you.

Now, no day is different than the last. No Sunset precious; no sunrise divine. There’s only the darkness and the light, which tell me when to remember and when to forget.

Now, when I see the most perfect of days, I cherish instead the one spent with you. .

The sunrise is empty

The moon’s light blown out

Its no longer healthy

To be thinking about

What could’ve happened

And what never did

What never forgets

And what never forgives