December Sky II

December is such a beautiful month. For me, its the best month of the year. A bad year ends, hoping for a better one ahead. A good year ends, giving hope another chance. But apart from the colours and the light perfumed breeze, December is about the beautiful sky. A sky filled with millions of clear sparkling stars and dreams. A sky, i cannot stop gazing at. A sky, i cannot stop dreaming about. Here's an ode to the december sky.. .. .. ..

You're under a december sky,
when you look at a star through the branches of a tree.
You're under a december sky,
when you let the breeze kiss your face, wild and free.
You're under a december sky,
when time stands still, for just he and she.

You're under a december sky,
when the street lights shine only for you.
You're under a december sky,
when you see the morning dew.
You're under a december sky,
when you dream the same dream, but this time its new.

You're under a december sky,
when you just miss the sunset.
You're under a december sky,
when you don't mind it at all and you don't fret.
You're under a december sky,
when you're lookin' at the many colors left by the sunset.

You're under a december sky,
when a moon is a neighbor to a million stars.
You're under a december sky,
when you're in a battle, fighting wars.
You're under a december sky,
when her smile can kill the scars.

You're under a december sky,
when a filmmaker is telling his story
You're under a december sky,
when you reunite with them all.
You're under a december sky,
when you're at the beach, near the rocks, praying for a free fall.

You're under a december sky,
when your phone stops ringing with numbers, calling you for an evening at froth.
You're under a december sky,
when you leave them all, with a promise to come back, after walking a mile.
You're under a december sky,
when the breeze fills your eyes, your soul, your smile.

You're under a december sky,
when good ol boys are drinking, singin', wishin' to stay alive.
You're under a december sky,
when you laugh at ol' jokes, passing a high five.
You're under a december sky,
when a stranger makes you think, makes you realize.

You're under a december sky,
when you see the sight of two brothers reuniting with a sister.
You're under a december sky,
when we all clap for floating bawa, as he commits.
You're under a december sky,
when you see it happen, at home.

You're under a december sky,
when you hear someone say, 'don't let curly hair get away'
You're under a december sky,
when you can smell 'curly hair', but pretend to smell her perfume.
You're under a december sky,
when you listen to 'i love a rainy night'
You're under a december sky,
when you're actually in a rainy night

You're under a december sky,
when you can't say what you need to say.
You're under a december sky,
when you go away, but promise to stay.

From here unto there..

Today, I took part in my first funeral in Saudi Arabia. I didn't know the person, I don't even know his name nor had I seen him before but it still pricked and it numbed and it sobered me with a sprinkle of humbleness.

Apparently, screeching rubber and searing turns with a gravel turn table resulted in putting a full-stop to his physical presence, an interim in those that loved him and a hyperlink to a new adventure for his soul.

This though hasn't been my first. I have been a part of my Gran' Pa's but have missed out on a lot of other passing-ons primarily due to the physical distance. This was different in some aspects.

I realized that in this part of the world, graves are un-marked as it is against the 'school of thought' to do otherwise. I was also given a small pictoral demonstration of how the grave is dug and structured to ease decomposition, prevent the stench from coming out and protection from scavenging animals should there be any. I was part of a tradition that I was very honored to be a part of.

The calmness and the composure exhibited by the person I knew, whose kin was lying a few feet away as he greeted the mourners. Calmness which I'm not very sure I would be able to possess should we trade shoes, God forbid. I tried to pass on as much warmth as a hug and some hollow words could - I hope he's warm.

I wonder if 'he' saw us from above, perched upon a cloud. Wishful thinking, many would say and I would most likely agree.

Maybe I'm reading too much into this..