The prodigal writer...

I can feel the gears starting to turn. The cranky machinery starting to move again - creaking, squealing, protesting - but definitely moving. I can feel the familiar incredible shiver in my fingertips, the feeling of focus and energy that washes over me. As my fingers rush on, in their glorious release, I regret as always, in the back of my head, that I did not come back earlier, come back oftener. I knew that was a question that had no answer.  Or maybe it was that I already knew. It is the biggest gift I have, and also, maybe, the biggest curse that I have. I sigh. I shut my eyes and just give in. I know not when I will be back. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next month, maybe an year later, maybe never. But I know that when it does, I know it will seize me. It will suck me into the whirlwind and bring me here. Again. But all that matters is that I am here now. And I feel like this is where I was meant to be. I feel like a trekker who chances upon a bird of incredible beauty and grace and stands there motionless, too scared to breathe, lest he scare away the bird. He did not plan it, and he cannot in the future. The moment just happened and all that matters was that he is there , and the bird is there, and for that moment in space and time, he is witnessing something special, something amazing. I feel like him - trying to clutch on to this amazing but transient experience, trying to memorise its every detail, knowing fully well that his best efforts cannot quite recreate the magic of that moment. For now, I live the moment. And soon, it will pass. And as it does, all I can do is to hope to be back. Until then, its goodbye.