The light was brighter
With friends surrounded
The nights of wonder
....Pink Floyd...
Yes it is the high hopes that are keeping me alive. I have tried to visualize them. The shapes are not clear, the boundaries have not been well defined, and they try to speak softly, more of a whisper at the back of my grey cell. Every time i have asked them to be louder, i want them to be clearer…like a crystal. But just like the shadow of my inner self they end up mocking me, teasing me, i could not decipher the sarcasm beyond their grinning face and i let them munch on my soul.
I become restless, like the passenger getting late for the last train, like the hawkers trying their best to sell off their inventory before the light turns green at the traffic signal, like the prostitute waving the flag of her last symbol of womanhood and yet failing to stretch that piece of fabric to her daughter's feet.
I guess the time is running out, my action still defiant, not ready to sink in with the pre-programmed mechanism of my central nervous system. He is still dictating terms, i have pleaded so many times, helplessly, desperately, trying to find a way out, to get hold of that last breath before sinking. But he is not ready to listen, he starts projecting some faces, some hypothetical illusions of years to come by, inundated with illusionary diagrams and pie charts of its own kind.
It’s high time they need to sort out within themselves; the count of my heartbeat has already given an indication of its number of counts remaining, if not well nourished. It is not meant to beat for some other futile purpose. I am scared, time is running out. That’s why i nowadays bribe my grey cells to seize from their functional work, i get some little space, for some time i can fool around with my system, l can manage to block those unnerving whispers, i can manage to withhold those beams of illusionary projection, because i create my own moments. I inject little doses of dreams in them, the dreams which were mine,the ones i always wanted to be louder and bigger. For a change, they do not laugh at me, on my questionable capabilities.
The grass becomes greener, not the one i have left, but the one yet to be grown…with high hopes.
It is the process of sorting out the 2 selves that makes life worth living. And what adds spice is that we live in constant hope of being able to reconcile the oft - warring selves!
ReplyDeleteIts the dilemma of everyones life...to realise the hopes, to understand where you are destined to go and to reach there.
ReplyDeleteAnd there lies the differential, the chaffing of the men from the boys, the drawing of line between the solid and the shallow. There are people who dont believe in dreams and there are people who like to dream. And then there are people who are obsessed by them. These people are so much tormented that they see a different persona in the mirror and they understand the chasm between the self and the reflection. And then they start their way chiselling themselves to become the exact replica of the perceived image.
Dreams are not meant to come true, dreams are meant to be achieved. And the first step towards that is the realisation of the urgent need to reach there. That, is the very essence of it and is the good fortune of the select handful.
So now if you feel that the shapes are not clear and that you are struggling to perceive them, it automatically implies that you are not satisfied with the picture you are seeing. You want to forecast your destination and you want to understand the journey to there. You are not snug in your cocoon and you want to break free from your chrysalis.That itself is half the battle won.