Midsummer Field

♫ U 137 - Midsummer Field ♫

Midsummer Field is the soundtrack to my memory. Midsummer Field reminds me of you. It evokes in me a poignant and nostalgic feeling where times long gone and destined to be forgotten flash before my eyes, and I can’t help but think of you, think of you, think of you.

We were in a good place, you and I. I was the wild-haired girl whose head from afar resembled the shade of evergreen trees. You were the boy with a contagious laugh, whose rhythm synchronized with mine right from the moment we met. You were my lifeline. A stranger whose unfamiliar arms felt like a long lost home I had longed to return to. But we live in a world of ephemeral moments, where everything ceaselessly shifts, drifts and changes. One day all the greens from my hair started to fade, and so did your laughter. The spark in you burned out, your eyes became dim and hollow, and i could no longer follow your rhythm. You drifted away, slowly and wordlessly, bequeathing me with only a piece of ‘ever after’ that i could hold onto.

My memory is smeared with remnants of you. I remember you in so many shapes and forms. You are the night sky painted with millions of stars young and old, living and dying. You are the pastel coloured sky at dawn, gazed at from a vast green field on a warm August morning. You are the happiness that healed and mended the scars I inherited from childhood. You are the sadness that slaughtered them open all over again. You are the clarity that makes me believe in love. You are the doubt that makes me wonder if it ever stays. You are the feeling of wholeness, of softness, of gratitude, from being loved boldly and authentically. You are the emptiness and longing that devours a person from within when love has left. You are the sound of laughter, of midnight conversations, of joy. You are the silences, the words that died unsaid and unheard before escaping these lips. You are the ardent and woeful cries of the girl you loved but could not be responsible for.

And now I’m here and you’re somewhere else. The last ship for us has sailed. Nothing awaits us here or on the other side of the shore. The people we are in each other’s memories are no longer here in this world. We've died and metamorphosed into ghosts and figments of the past. I guess this is how people die while the air is still in their lungs. This is how the living buries the living – in each other’s memory, without breaking a sweat or lifting a finger, burning the bridge that links one to the other, forever freezing the moments shared together in a frame of past glory and bliss. And this present moment- the reality we're living in- is a residue of the world which collapsed when we died. This, my dear, is the afterlife of love.