It was one of those rare sunny days when colors seemingly filled the day with brightness. It was the green of the grass beneath my feet. And the blue of the sky above my mind. Life blossomed with hurried enthusiasm. The flowers made a frenzy of moves, seeming again to make a dance. Faint breeze drizzled to the sweet music.
And I said to Me, ‘It feels like heaven.’
Sudden’ed’ by numbness again. Pins and needles dropped in my mind. The violence overcame the silence. It ran again through my mind. The unpurged images of the day crossed me. And I thought, ‘Do I have the thought to write anymore?’
My thought let the faint breeze invade my space, and it blew the unstained sheets of paper all around.
I looked at the river flowing nearby. It somehow seemed unreachable. I tried to write but the pen wouldn’t write. Only because I had wished it to. I frantically jerk the pen. I wish to fill the river into it. But no pain could bring in even tears to fill it. I could write no more. The river could not either. Not even dried water.
What would I write upon?
Life at times becomes the loneliest place you can ever imagine - Like the silence of its own graveyard.
The sun brought parched grass all around. And the moon’s absence turned the dream into a nightmare.
I don’t know why I spend my time writing things I don’t believe. With words that tear me apart. They try to force me.
All that I once held seem false. All that I once held is True. Whom else can I trust?
Now I stand alone without beliefs. The only truth that I know is You. And when I watch through the window pane, it’s the drops of rain. And it reminds me of the pain. I know I am not like them.
Shall time dwell and heal?
Written sometime in the March of 2006
And I said to Me, ‘It feels like heaven.’
Sudden’ed’ by numbness again. Pins and needles dropped in my mind. The violence overcame the silence. It ran again through my mind. The unpurged images of the day crossed me. And I thought, ‘Do I have the thought to write anymore?’
My thought let the faint breeze invade my space, and it blew the unstained sheets of paper all around.
I looked at the river flowing nearby. It somehow seemed unreachable. I tried to write but the pen wouldn’t write. Only because I had wished it to. I frantically jerk the pen. I wish to fill the river into it. But no pain could bring in even tears to fill it. I could write no more. The river could not either. Not even dried water.
What would I write upon?
Life at times becomes the loneliest place you can ever imagine - Like the silence of its own graveyard.
The sun brought parched grass all around. And the moon’s absence turned the dream into a nightmare.
I don’t know why I spend my time writing things I don’t believe. With words that tear me apart. They try to force me.
All that I once held seem false. All that I once held is True. Whom else can I trust?
Now I stand alone without beliefs. The only truth that I know is You. And when I watch through the window pane, it’s the drops of rain. And it reminds me of the pain. I know I am not like them.
Shall time dwell and heal?
Written sometime in the March of 2006
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