And someone told me to cherish the little things in life, so I believed in it and the beauty of the thought… but it all made sense… only after I met you.
Christmas Tree is a heartsong strung together for someone tied to the heart, perhaps in a way that one only whispers to their own.
Like an old record’s soft hum of notes, life transitions into focusing on that one being who suddenly walked in and made it better. Did they? Don’t know. But the heart believes such. For even in the questionable effects of their touch on one’s life, it’s obvious that their presence makes one forget everything else to hazy details… as if nothing else matters.
Momentarily, madly and childishly in love with a presence that seems to be the sunshine after a cold downpour. And maybe that warmth radiated by just a being or the one that creeps up the cheeks dusted blush, maybe all of that is enough to sing to my soul, you’re special:
Like a companion of lonely restless nights, like the stars I often wished upon, you walk into my life, shining through the gloomy clouds. And in this moment I wish to hold onto whatever we have, to talk my heart out, tell you everything going on in my head... Yet all I really want is just to be there, where you are. And that’s enough.
And sometimes you’re beyond my comprehension, sometimes there are parts to you only I can understand. You’re magical, indescribable, intricate, miraculously beautiful… And maybe I’ll always wait, no matter where the wind takes the heart, I’ll be here. Because all I want is to tell you everything that I can think of. But those million tiny things get tangled up the way my gaze gets in yours, and then maybe what’s left to be said are the million little reasons I keep falling for those eyes... And how they leave me speechless each time. But it’s okay. Because all I wanted was to be where you are.
And maybe that is what you do to me. What you do to my life. You leave me spellbound and speechless… unfathomably okay with just your existence and insufferably inexpressive about what it does to me. And maybe it’ll always be such, I’ll never find the right words to tell you about the difference you’ve made. But it’s so beautiful that I let it be. I don’t know if you’d understand, I don’t know if I can make you. I don’t know if you’d like to know all of this, I don’t know what difference would it make. So maybe I let the ‘I don’t know’s huddle up in a corner of concerns to tend to later, while I mumble and whisper we’re still too young, we’ve a long life ahead of us. Maybe I’m okay with not hurriedly untangling it all, as long as I get to be with you regardless. Maybe someday I’ll spill the beans. Someday. And till then, maybe this heartsong is only meant to be whispered to my heart.
If a million realizations could all come crashing down, about losing it all to oblivion, perhaps a bittersweet ballad like Sweet Night would birth.
Fragility, vulnerability, and the gravity of what was felt and what is lost… are condensed to depict the acknowledgment of value hitting only after the realization of loss.
Sometimes we take too long to say things out loud, and when we finally do, it comes off as still being unheard of. As much as it pains to finally come to terms with what we have perhaps wanted to utter for ages, as hard as it is to fathom it matters no longer to. We scream into voids about the windows to souls we once let be, and looked away… now we wish to turn to open doors. We long to be with and at places we wish we could have chased earlier, but are left to wonder was it all just another fragment of our imagination, a hallucination, too good to be true… and maybe too good to be ours.
Regret holds a power so strong over our hearts, it moves us into gazing upon pathways we consciously stepped away from. But we’ve drifted away in the darkness… perhaps partly engulfed by the dark and partly clouded by the thoughts in our head. And from where we’ve come, to where we’ve come, looking back can make us wonder about more than just a loss… In fact, even question if this feeling weighing down our heart is truly marked by what has slipped from between our fingers… or is it only the longing that marks the end of an era of yearning… yearning for what never was… or never was ours… Because what if the lament of losses is not of them but just lost time… time went by subconsciously seeking something without developing the courage to express… and craving for it more as it slips away… draining us.
But who knows what that last gaze at the seas between brings… a continued aching… cognizance of abodes in fool’s paradise… where the ache is for the emptiness we consciously filled our hearts with…
Christmas Tree felt like being dearly attached to someone, like blossoming feelings… But such that one cannot put a name to them… And somehow they’re content with everything just being that. That person being a miraculous presence, their calming moon on otherwise sleepless summer nights… someone who they would share everything with… Who one knew more than perhaps they ever noticed themselves… Such deep admiration (maybe even silent) that they were oblivious to even the extent of their attachment… To know someone like the back of your hand but to struggle to fathom what they truly mean to you… Yet as time slips by they chose to live in just that moment… to just be with this person they unknowingly longed for… but couldn’t even comprehend the state and status of their emotions towards them… beyond the fact that ‘the presence’ made a difference… a good difference… one they cherished and chased after if needed and when… someone their heart would go after/to...
But Sweet Night is that bubble bursting, the bubble of this world built in the head where in that moment one was the happiest, where ‘this’, whatever was shared between the two, was really all too good and enough… or at least that’s what it felt like back then.
It’s like standing there one would have looked up and cherished just sharing space while stargazing, looked up at the moon together because that felt enough but "how would I know one day I would wake up feeling more..." almost seems like that moment and that person has slipped away and now when one thinks of themselves there, it hits them… all the while they were looking up at the moon, they never realized, that person was around them but never near… and now that one can understand what that meant to be, they’ve realized that miracle was never their’s…
It’s like losing something you never had when you were content with whatever you had… only to realize you never did. It was your mind telling you this was enough but this was just your mind weaving a tale that was never yours.
Christmas Tree reminds me of that incomprehensible crush of someone who’s content with the little they have, thinking and crossing their fingers… hoping in this moment time would… but time and life don’t stop for anyone... And that innocent crush they had, bloomed into greater and deeper love. That’s the bitterness left in the memories of the Sweet Night that now is not a hazy memory of the moonlit sky, but the insurmountable distance between the people who shared that moment. So though it felt like this slice of life was enough, it now kills them to think the world woven was nothing but a dream… As if they’ve genuinely lost the chance to profess their newly understood feelings.
(unnecessary bonus thoughts): My mind associates this to some sort of a tragedy or an adoration that was always bound to be tragic. But they chose to live in that moment, wondering all they wanted was this right now… oblivious to the desire to hold on, until now… Until they just can’t anymore…
For a tragic ending that my mind chooses to knit together with these two, let’s add Yours to this trilogy of blooming, wilting, and withering away love...
