Uttarayan (3/3). I often wonder,
How can one day goodbye,
To things and people one has not met.
Uttarayan flies by.
I did not meet Uttarayan this time.
Though, I now have to wish it farewell.
It is gone, for another year.
It will be another year before,
I can revisit the scars of my fingers,
the shadows of the wind,
the art of kites.
Is it worth it,
this act of remembering?, I ask myself.
To which I reply.
Memories maketh men.
For it means that you were once alive.
Until next time.