The fear of living has proliferated in continuum for a while now, but you need that gravity of courage to hit you hard when you take a dive down from the pass. As you reach towards the end you realize that this life was a joke death played on you, this freedom was a restriction your soul played on you.
Category: bigger story
For a measure of peace our souls seek,
for a measure of courage we all coruscate,
for a measure of sanctity our actions speak,
for a measure of benevolence we shower,
we seek to judge two sides of a coin.
For a measure of delirium we delve,
for a measure of uncertainty needing to be unfurled,
we seek to reveal the third side…
I
Between those spooky entanglement of wires in my head, a dream lingered. In this grotto of blackness I saw a flame flicker, deep and delightful. All the paths were abruptly illumined by this faint yet fierce flame. When will I wake up and walk along those paths to see the visceral yet wide world of reality?
II
I ride on the saddle of a wild horse that threw me across the bad lands, dirtied and deranged, I crawl on the soil bloodied by my pain. The horizons start burning like the flames on a moon-dead night. Now my bones start whining for a tender embrace that shall last till the horizons decide to burn again. Warm winds conquer this wild land and run across, announce their arrival with a hiss fading into a whimper, they are curvy like the saddle I was behest of. I know its her again, the same old lips, fiery yet flimsy just died onto mine, never to leave. When will I wake up and cross those light years, cut them down to arc seconds, to burn in her embrace?
III
‘Freedom!’, I exclaimed tasting the finely brewed wine talking of its glory acquired six and a half decades ago, but it felt worse than ever. Gloss of the chalice had started to wane. The sacred liquid in rouge felt tainted. Seldom I find her flow so disturbing yet unnervingly severed from morality. She merged into my digestive juices, Alas, I still see the bloodstains dancing on the grooves of the glass blown and made like the finest of caryatids only to suit this wine. I stand tall, walk further, be a part of the world that’s ever revolving, ever churning, every hand that I shook felt like a dagger cutting across my palm, adding a little more to the stains. In her filth i still find a taste that lingered on my tangs, that ensured my adhesion with her. When will i wake up clear from this hangover for which I am slave of ?
IV
Oo little grape, you look marooned from your mother, but stunning to my eyes. But you know I wonder how I should rip you apart. There is a fight between my incisors and canines on who has the first go, the molars were sitting calm for they loved their job of grinding. But you know my tongue is really excited for you, it assumes you will activate its sweet tang…unfortunately you too come with two possibilities, not an ideal bloke. You have every chance to turn sour as to be sweet. Probability, that’s the key it just tends to one, never there. There is some similarity that I see between you and me, you are my prey, a prey to my hunger. So am I, a prey for consequences that life has for me, churned in circumstances. But here is the difference, you can feint to be rotten in order to escape execution and I just have to stand up no matter what happens and embrace fate and its whims. When will I wake up from the world sweetened by you and rejoice this bitter truth?
V
‘Ah, its the clockwork again!’ perfectly recorded like the chirps to the dawn, the same old clockwork, perfectly timed for death after a mellifluous life. And so in this mechanised world death serenades for dawn. It marches on… The lonely soldier who conquered his own fears, who carved his glory on the stones that rested him deep, he marched on…only to plant those flags of victory on a land unseen. He too was part of the clockwork that fate chimed on. All those tears for men undone by death fill another man’s nib, and they tangoed in the shape of thoughts that dissolved on the papers. Is your breath strong enough to live with them, is it long enough to change them? We are all warriors, at war with an unknown force which we claim to be of an infinitesimal size yet thrust upon us with an undying intensity. Seldom, its that force that pushes the nib a little further on the paper.
VI
Passion!’ whispered the wind that just weathered a brutal storm. It burnt fiercely on those satin robes, hugged the storm with intense lust, kissed it to silence with condescending pride….VII
Choices! A utopian world contorted around your head, comforted your gloom with promises as lovely as a baby’s chuckle. A dystopian world controlled your actions and revelled your glories, only to pay you back with some tears. Those tears laughed at you till they become a part on your skin. Then you had an opportunity to choose, my friend….to live with them, cocooned in that blurry haze or to wipe them off and make your vision lucid. After you choose one of those, you walked down the valley of nails, you experienced the feeling of pain, the feeling of being taken down and torn apart. Survival is basic human capability and so you did. Then you hatched a plan on laying down a foundation for a fortress to commemorate your resilience. Not so fast, my friend!…you have another choice to make…when one man stood up to lead, another hundred stood behind him waiting to be led, I say one is greater than hundred…will you agree with me? An agreement will lift a fortress so strong that no test of will is capable of penetrating past it.
VIII
Seldom we become so light and faint at heart, we start dissolving into our own shadows.
Just when we think that we possess a pair of eyes that paints our mind and possesses the space on our canvas with a melange of colors, we are rudely reminded that there are tears. Both perched on the same nest.
IX
“AAH! the excavation,” the general grinned at his lieutenant. “It is for the same excavation I sacrificed my blithe for.
The ravenous creeks I crossed,
the smell of gold that hugged my lust,
those hours I burnt the wick plotting the maps of a different landscape,
the wars that I fought within those badlands to warp my soul to blend with hers,
an acceptance of her or a denial of myself? I still ponder. While she moved on to a different hand to shine, leaving me behind with a shadow of this 0.35 caliber,”
the general continued
“Lieutenant! before you are ready for the battlefield christened as the moment of truth, there’s only one question you need to ask yourself – will you be able to hold the gun called faith, point-blank and still have the courage to take the bullet of trust into your head? If your answer is negative, Darn! that gold ain’t worthy on your hand! You’ll be buried under the same shadow as I was.”
I tell you, Chaos is fucking disintegrating with every damn second and soon its gonna’ pass away into a devastating silence.
So damn devastating that you can’t take it any more. So fucking devastating that you’ll doubt your own shadow.
continued…
