April 23, 2011

I Will Disappear

I will disappear like the falling rain that touches your face, and then drying out on the pavement, once the sun shines on it.
I will disappear like the green color  of the leaves you saw on  that tree, fades as winter approaches.

I will disappear like the symphony playing strictly by the orchestra in a concert you attended.

I will disappear like the pain vanishing instantly after the needle pierces your fingers.

I will disappear like the lights of the airplane taking off, as it levitates higher in the sky.

I will disappear like the eyeliner that cover those eyes, gets removed off as night approaches.

I will disappear like the words written on the postcard, as the dust ate them throughout the years.

I will disappear. I will depart.
  But beware!

I will transform.
Like that rain drop transformed into free bubbles roaming in the air.
Like that leaf transformed into a beautiful yellow color, flying away from its bounded tree.
Like that symphony transformed into a sweet humming, played generously by all who heard the symphony.
Like that pain transformed into a giggle because the ache was foolish and minute.
Like that light transformed into a vigorous one when the same plane landed back again.
Like that eyeliner that transformed into a plain truth that unraveled the fakeness of those eyes.
Like those words transformed into a memory that can never be erased.
And so, I will transform into something more free, more beautiful.
For I was something that was real and now I am something that is intangible.

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