my buddy

i assume it is the perfect day when i get up every morning...
somtimes my assumtions are true.. keeping my faith in the goodness in the skies...
and more than sometimes they dont.. i mope, i curse, swear on the one in those very skies.. never to have faith.
and yet everyday.. i assume.
i assume becuase i have no other choice.
because most of me lives in the skies.. right next door to the one who makes all the decisions.
we used to be best buddies.. sometime along the way.. he got busy with his other creations...
and i got busy doing he only knows wot...
and gradually, we lost touch.
to a point where we even started doubting each others existence in our lives...
i had moved out.. moved on... to a better place, with more friendly neighbours....
unpacking my luggage, i found an old leather album,
mould green, putrid smeeling, vomit colored memories.
i put it out in the sun..
for all the moisture and seepages to evaporate...
early morning...
the album, i remembered... had some very old forgotten emotions packed, framed inside.. laminated.. blocked....
more dust flew off with every movement of the cloth,
filling it with more memories than one person can have in a lifetime... collected over the years....
there in all the pictures, was my buddy, my best friend
who i didnt even remember the surname of.
my senses came slapping like cold chilling wind.
and i ran...
to my old place, my house, my neighbour next door. the one who still made all my decions, without me realising it.. from up in those skies... right where i left him...
i opened his door...
he was sitting cross legged like a baby.. right on the other side of the door...
waiting, growing old... waiting..
for me,
to return. to let go.

my other neighbours.. still write ... asking me to return...