They Call But I Remain.

Why is it that from darkness light looks so beautiful? And from pain, relief? Maybe this is my destiny, this hollow pit of sadness which I cannot escape, but then I think of these words, these dark letters full of sadness and they taunt me, they challenge me to come out, to escape, to fly. They call but I remain.

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Love Is All and Love Is Nothing

…a voice, a vibration, a lost soul, an unveiled destiny. Seen, unseen, known, unknown, stumbling through hazy visions of its unredeemed past, finding not what was but still is; a picture of Love. A stunning stroke on the black bare wall of its own prison and then void…Echoes making unbearable marks on the already insane mind, leaving behind a husk; nothing more.

Unprecedented order of events influences this mere husk and as a spectator to its own violation, it witnesses itself devoured in the silent sea of loneliness; and no effect of its own volition can ever stand against the mere shadow of that sea…and all this because of Love.

Tossing and jostling, this husk, on the crushing waves of the ocean of time and space, the torture never ends. Pain is no longer abhorrent but blissful, shadows do not insinuate fear but companionship.

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The Night Is More Beautiful

Moon makes faces at me for I insult it by thinking of someone else. I never thought that Moon could be this possessive. I think the phrase, “Shoot for the Moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land amongst the stars.” is funny for Moon is too possessive to let the stars have you but don’t plan on shooting yourself to the Moon; I have heard it is quite far away.

Precisely this notion, this idea of thought, this despairing vision stops us from shooting for the Moon or for the stars, for that matter. Distance is an illusion of mind, have you ever travelled in a desert? Don’t you see how never-ending it seems, don’t you feel it in your bones? The further you aim, the further you fall. Literally fall.

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Prologue

Arlo could no longer see, the darkness had blended in so well; it seemed to him that only darkness was devoid of fragility, that only darkness had the solidity of a change-bringer. A soft whisper of movement slowed him to a stop, as a voice uttered a single word, “We.” But then it came from another and another and soon everywhere there was an echo, an echo which shook the heart, which moved mountains, which stilled the storms. It was an echo of creation, of the beginning and the ending, of the world and the universe. It was the voice of the Living.

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Ripple

The Moon had unveiled its shiny visage and the stars had lost their demeanor and to eye it seemed as if a million gems were merely blinking beside their mother’s brightly opened eye. On the darkest canvas known to creation, the Moon could be seen relishing the fruit of its own mirror extant upon the illusive bod of water. Beside the vague yet astral image of darkness, an imitation of my artless mien could be beheld. I stood on the verge of my reflection’s embrace, lost in my fruitless thoughts, when in my horizon I glimpsed a birthing ripple. Confused and restless, like me, it spread its essence to the extents of every prospect, leaving in its steps a memory of chaos and randomness, and its small prominence with courage and insistence influenced every pattern of its mother’s illustrious eminence, coercing her to embrace its chaotic manner.

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Happy New Year!

A few second were left, out of breath and out of shape but uncaring for his own existence, the boy waited and finally, he looked up to sky and beheld a sight that blew him away. Millions of stars had come out to greet him and in their midst was the Moon, the Mother, the Queen, it looked as if the light of the stars was embracing the Moon, it was beautiful, spectacular and behind him, every person, young or old, weak or strong, cried with the utmost fervor the song of the new year but the boy was still looking up for he had been granted his wish…he was free, at last.

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A Christmas Longing

Wonder with care the truth and reality that you should care the every heart’s actuality. Some tears always fall but be the one to wipe them and take hold of their hands and embrace them with love…

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A Silent Dark Night

Withers the profundity of our souls, becoming densely feeble in every note, as we drift in the river of fate. We do have a heart but it functions no more than, lub-dub, lub-dub, making us slaves of our own minds. We fly from one feeling to another, one place to another, one person to another, one purpose to another, and we don’t stay much long to enjoy what we are blessed with, unsatisfied and in search of betterment, we drift and drift…

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The Call

Lost in my thoughts, I failed to perceive time and the dusk came with its welcoming song, waking me from a deep slumber and when my eyes blinked upon the yellow disk, sinking in the ocean of darkness, I felt as if I was glimpsing into the prospect of future and the distorted rays of the beautiful sun were desperately trying to once again ascend and bask us in their hopeful light but however much they tried, they failed…

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