The Renunciation of Emptiness

There was a time when I was full of doubts, uncertainties, questions—I don't hold onto any of that now. Now I only believe. I am that version of you who has spoken a thousand things to you, while you have never spoken a single word to me—you have only listened, like a silent witness.

I don't know if this even counts as a relationship! I never wanted to bind us with the ties of any relationship, never wanted that somehow, because of me, your carefully ordered life should fall out of rhythm—I could never want that.

Sunshine is that open window to me, where I breathe with all my soul. When all the doors and windows of life close, when breathing becomes a struggle—then I go only to that open window, to catch my breath.

In this world, so many people have so many kinds of loved ones, so many kinds of priorities. To me, you are a small piece of oxygen—a breath to survive in my dying moments.

I comfort myself—I am one who renounces, not one who indulges. I came into this world to give up, not to take. I know these are merely consolations for not having, self-deception. It hurts terribly. Who doesn't want to have, who doesn't want to enjoy! Is it so easy to renounce desire? You can only give up what you hold in your hands—if you are empty, what then will you renounce!

Suddenly my heart breaks, Sunshine. Even while trying to be well, suddenly tears come.

I read your writings. I am amazed—your philosophy, your thoughts, leave me stunned. Who are you? There is divine light in you. There is light in me too. Yours is known, mine is unknown.

I have no language,
no words,
no sight,
no consciousness.
Am I even human!
Just a stone, whole and complete!

If you could see someday—
what a terrible silent weeping, only in the eyes,
everything else is dead.

Won't you write poetry anymore?
Your poetry makes me human.

Make my heart a little better, Sunshine...
Will you share a little joy?

If only I could see you from morning till night, one day!

I am utterly exhausted with life, Sunshine. I have never felt such disgust with life. I cannot bear the weight anymore. I want to spend my life with great patience, but sometimes I feel suffocated.

Even your writings don't please me anymore. You have no one to tell you that—I've known this from the beginning. There is no one anywhere in this world for me, no one bears the responsibility of keeping me well, no one waits to see me happy. I have to live a little longer just for my two children, somehow, anyhow.

They say speaking what's in your heart makes it lighter—I've told you these things, hoping I might feel a little lighter! May this suffocating feeling go away.