To the Keeper of My Thoughts

To the Keeper of my thoughts,

Do you know a dragonfly is extremely unique? Their four wings, working independently from each other, allow them to fly in any direction they please. Their compound, telescopic eyes enable them to view the world in a 360 degree vision. Ironically, the only blind spot is directly behind them. Hot diggity darn, I wished me a dragonfly.

I never knew words could comfort me like a cozy luxe blanket until I found your diary, secretly tucked inside a birdhouse. You see, my dad asked me to clean it out, shortly after we moved into the new house. What seemed like a laborious chore, turned into a cathartic moment, forever changing my life. The diary was strategically buried under layers of hays. 

The cover of the book had a picture of a Cherry Blossom Tree, the edges tethered from endless nights of writing. I wasn’t sure why but my heart was thumping loudly, as if I was just about to open a present left for me underneath the Christmas Tree. 

Gingerly, I opened the book to the first page. In an effortless beautiful cursive style, just one line breathed, “To the Keeper of My Thoughts.”  I felt a bit relieved knowing I was allowed to read the contents of the book. I turned to the second page and started reading. 

“Am I lonely, I ponder

For I am always alone 

But not fear loneliness.

  To the keeper of my thoughts;

  I have waged, battled and fought 

  So that you may read my gamut 

  Of solitary thoughts.”

Immediately, the book fell from my shaking hands. Bewildered by the haunting words, I was struck by overwhelming emotions blended in a whirling tornado hitting straight to the core of my heart. Distinctly, I heard your voice carried upon the wings of a globe skimmer dragonfly, patiently seeking a mate to finally end your wandering, lonesome journey. 

 My heart resonated with unfamiliar feelings. Your poem ignited and fueled empathy towards how you felt while you wrote those short stanzas. At that moment, I was hungry to know more about this hidden gem, about you. 

You filled the diary with poems, stories, quotes that uplifted my spirits, brought tears to my eyes, had me belting out with laughter. Every word transported me to a mystical and magical realm I never wanted to leave. Your world of escapism helped me forget I was a teenage boy, burdened by the bullies from my old school.

One of my favorite poems (boy, did you make it hard for me to choose),

Grow Old With Me

Your love is a song that sings to my soul

Come and grow old with me

And you will see 

Our love will set us both free

You and I were always meant to be 

Connected by a flimsy thread

Woven by a spider’s beautiful silk web 

Can’t you see, the vision that lays ahead

For once, let our feelings take the lead 

Your love is a song that sings to my soul

And when I feel your sweet embrace 

Oh my darling

Can you see how symmetrical 

Like a lucky four leaf clover 

You know our bond can never be broken 

It’s a love song that should not be unspoken

Let’s not waste any more time 

Because our love is a parallel desire 

Not flames waiting to burn

But time has wanted us to shine 

Your love is a song that sings to my soul

Stay and grow old with me 

And you will see 

Our love will set us both free 

You and I were always meant to be

I read and reread this poem until each syllable was etched into my memory. This harmonious soliloquy replaced the small fissures in my broken spirit once filled with cynical doubts, now with hope. The possibility of falling in love in this chastising world.

Intentionally, you left out dates, your name, any details describing your physical self in this common world, knowing those shallow details were unimportant.     

Unsuccessfully, for years I tried to find you but every public record led me to dead ends. How you remained so mysterious but a kindred spirit was perplexing. I did not appreciate the Universe laughing at us, taunting us with its wicked humor.   

Throughout the years, I kept your diary close to me. Every morning, on my way to work, I’d stop in front of the window of the same bookstore. For a fleeting moment, I wished for a meeting with you. 

On this particular summer morning, the sky was pouring down showers upon the city streets. Gripping an umbrella with both hands, my walk to work was a drenched sprint. Then something happened. A familiar cherry blossom coverlet was showcased in the window of the bookstore. I stood frozen, recognizing the hardcover. I forgot about work, the rain, the world. 

Nervously, I walked into the store and asked the person behind the register for the book. As it was handed to me, I felt the way I did when I was fourteen. The same way when I found your diary in a house full of chirps. Could it be? Did the Universe hear my wishes and finally grant me this inevitable, fateful meeting? 

I did not open the book. I flipped the book over and staring back at me, was a picture of you. I took in every detail of your features, conventionally falling in love with you all over again. 

As I did when I was fourteen, I slowly opened the book. On the first page I read your dedication to me, “To the keeper of my thoughts.” Excitingly, I turned to the second page and  there was your haunting poem. Remembering this is not the original, I flipped to the inside jacket of the cover. I read the synopsis of your book and then the last sentence struck a searing knife into my soul. You passed away a year before your book was published. Tears started pouring like the rain outside, flooding my entire being. Suddenly, I felt like I was drowning in an empty abyss of puddles. I cried like a child. The person behind the register came over to me. Angrily, I asked to be left alone. 

Through my blinding tears, I flipped through your book until I reached the last page. An unfamiliar poem. With a heavy heart, I read your final words you wrote to me, 

To the Keeper of my thoughts:

   Under your protection

   I found courage.

   The Universe carried to me 

          a voice. 

    Your voice. 

    I heard it say,

    fate will continue to urge 

    two lonesome souls,

    strangers wandering in the dark night,

    parallel paths 

shall one day cross.

     If not in this eternity, 

      endless eternities here on in.

Suddenly, I felt like a dragonfly. My wings will continue to fly in every direction, searching for you.