Nights of lone!
The time
when the fern grows best, as someone still impure within you had said it
right. Local leaves with lime still make their way through your ever-engulfing
mind and throat. Angels of doom feather around. They are ready anytime, don’t
care, what’s fusing into time!
“Woo...tragedy at its best, I see?” He gnarls like the worst foe, but places his
welcoming lean on your head and hugs with pleasing warmth, like the flux of red
fuming coal around an icy mist. Man! How does he manage to reach in the
vicinity even on the slightest of bordering conflictions destined to you? By
the way, it’s one of those interruptions you never hated indulging into. He
starts again, opens up the old book.
He is eating you. He has got under your
skin. He flies in your head and makes you perform through your limbs the
services of his so called divine and ideal world, where only one thing can
survive; momentary self satisfaction.
In real, you are starving; for smiles on the caring faces, for beautification
of the lost love, for recognition of the person you always desired to be, for
letting yourselves rise like humane. Meditation might not be as consuming as
you think. You need it.
And, he flushes out a vicious vile of
air to you to for a second’s breathe. “Wait, M....E...D..., is that what I
heard? Haah........”, jokes like the oldest friend. He has known you like no
one else. He has been with you through the Everest celebrations, the deep
unshared miseries, in fact in every tick and tock of your sub consciousness.
You have regretted about repairs for him before, but never about the time
during your dances in his vacuum. Well, he has never ordered you; he has guided
you wildly, by thrilling ways, which you anyway enjoy.
Confusion, Un-realization and primly
Addiction! All these have taken a toll over you my friend. And he has clutched
onto the advantage like a scavenger. I mean, why do you sing his tunes? He has
netted falseness, an enigmatic unreality over your nerves. Responsibilities,
where are they? You know you are aging like your old man. You will fall; your
wings have developed density. Your little sibling is passing out the longest
wait of his life, he has broad expectations. Don’t weaken your shoulders; your
old ones will need them to support the cart soon.
He is listening! He has held you tight
around the echoes of these complexities, probably searching for highs and lows
tonight. So praiseworthy is his expertise of finding matter-less reasons for
you to seed ideas with him, he list them so well. His view murmurs’ around the
decisions you are going to make. He whispers, “It’s up to you whether to join
me or not” he is luring. He slides away through the slope for a lonely stroll,
one of his old ways of a voiceless ecstatic call. You need to spare a time with
him, brother.
You will never change. You are like the
same movie playing on a tap reeling over and over again. There still presides a
slight hope that you will revive, thrash and control him like a slave.
“No! Not a word more, Mr.
Serious....Mysterious....Whatever. You, with all your harshness and theoretical
vows will not play with my soul tonight. I promise: I will solely fall on your
feet by the first light of the day. Sayonara!”
“You
are really done with him, right?” He asks, like a home pleading you to stay
forever during a visit. You smile. He saved your ass tonight!
