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Maze of the Dreamcather
The weight of my pounding heartbeats with every passing phase of the night seems to defy more and more tragically the myth of the shielding dreamcather even in the arms of most beholding beauty ever known to me. It’s pretty much unbearable to even hold the thought of taking a step further and inter into a territory showing a familiar sight to sooth my weltering mind with absolutely no chance to recuperate from the looming shadows of a chequered past with a chimerical trace leading to a fragmented future in the offing that is yet to be encountered.
This is rather outlandish to conceive that this stifling sense of commotion in the subconscious is robust enough to stay for a longer period of time but at the same time its very disturbing to realize that by all available definitions of insanity it is very much close to get me to the point where all my logic and rationality will cease to exist and life at that point will dwell into a dimension where strings and spheres of my imagination will be inseparable from the rocky grounds of the most subliminal preconception of the truth of my existence.
Have a nice life …………
The Departure Terminal
Desires are known to enslave rationality and a perception of exuberance that lasts only for a short while seems nothing short of a tumultuous twister that is destined to change lives forever by not letting the “change of the lifetime” change anything. In the worst possible case I reckon, the quirk of fate will preside over everything else and these earthly shackles will no longer be a hindrance to the flight of the pigeon.
While trying to prevent myself from being knocked off the chair by the gush of drowsiness and acute melancholia in the early hours of the day, it is decidedly unthinkable not to think about the extent of my swing in a very quick span of passing days and nights. There is nothing surreptitious or clandestine about this massive split in my personality to me but surprisingly it helps keep my exterior much stronger than anyone else caught in the same fix at any given time.
Admittedly, it is a rather far fetched assumption to have in the wake every night and day that brings nothing but a massive pile-up on your soul only to leave an already bleeding heart in shambles. The constant thirst for ideas to satiate the wanderlust of a deeply fragmented mindset feels no less painful than an ironical slap in the face of reality. This paradoxical attempt to antagonize causality through result is a never-ending quest for glittering opulence of the Eldorado.
This is the end of yet another spell of having a constant source of his radiance around myself. Although lived across a very short spectrum of space and time, leaving the departure lounge of the airport today could not have prevented me from relapsing into another déjà vu where crumbling hearts and overwhelming emotions are inundated with each other long after your cab reaches the known destination on a metaphorically unknown plane.
Have a nice life ............
A Scottish Night and a Book – A Trip Down the Memory Lane
Perched nonchalantly on a wooden carved armchair, there seemed like an abstract galaxy of fossilized desires, charred ego and yielding silence of a defeated soul that once stood in the face of all ungrounded demons and insanity of immortal fears. It was the moment where the crudest face of my reality was all pervasive in the silence ridden with sense of my thickening blood and sinking heartbeats into the murk of night that was slowly reclaiming its territory across the horizon.
I shut the book and walked away from the hive, but could not help thinking over it repetitively. I felt an unknown bondage held by it only to draw me closer and closer with the onset of every new thought and every new flash of the light telling each other how stormy it was both in the mind and out of it. Wading into a contemplatory puddle of my past and an uncertain future, surprisingly I got carried away far more down the road than what I would have strolled past on any other given day without having so much going on in my head. With the worsening weather, the night was hell-bent on drawing its curtains to smother any visibility whatsoever in a very precognitive manner. The peak of the mountain was really testing the eyesight, while I was trying hard to cope with gushing wind blowing vehemently from the North Sea front. The might of solitude was laid bare in front of me with all its grace, often chequered by the sound of passing by caravans and lorries.
Even the merest idiot would have guessed what was going on in the back of the troubled mind, but ironically it was outside the domain of the conventional wisdom and tangibility to care about what that preposterous culmination had been through or what could have been the reason behind that outlandishly freaky disposition of a calmed exterior.
While on my way back, I realized once again with the thickening mist that my world was full of skepticism which was constantly being victimized by the virtue of its mercurial nature and its obsession with the dynamics of the flux. To be able to know that ‘Being over head and ears’ in love with mortality seemed to negate the very basis of a cathartic life that promised to look a return in the wake of even the most staunch of an opposition that could have come from within and even the sweetest of all imaginable looks could not have relinquished its presence deep inside my heart.
Have a nice life ............
A traveler in a strange land
Two years have swung by since I lost my sanity to a departure that seemed the most cruel thing that had happened to any human being at that time but looking at the outcome of that strange phase of my life takes nothing from me as the mighty hands that the Master of the tavern holds everything that is destined for me. The sense of ignorance still dogs and haunts me with all the tease and pain that is still all over my days and nights. My tears are still tinged by the nuances of those melting lips and broken hearts. I don’t know what have I lost into my stride to this moment in time as the ability to compare on the spectrum of loss and gain is blurred enough to take me to a spiral of bitter cynicism and unprecedented selflessness. The clarity of the intentions of my fate still looks very distant as it doesn’t need any recognition by me as the owner of the harvest is keeping it all away from the reprimand. The command of the beloved is all that a lover can demand in the face of all the harshness and atrocities inflicted from within and from outside.
I am waiting to see the terminal conclusion of my planned journey and a final departure of all that I still love and make myself worthy of his hand that will take me to the land of unknown and unplanned destiny where beloved is all in all and lover is none.
Though I will remain alive to remember all that has happened to me and somewhere every spec of my heart and every drop my tears will connect me to those moments where I blessed someone and was blessed without getting into the debate of what is right and wrong?
Have a nice life ……….