I woke up into my consciousness,
Only to see the unconscious me,
Slept forever, waken up forever, dead.
Concert hall is not only the one with Taylor Swift’s voice echoing or Papa Mania band covering the stage but..
But might be the one where she is crying in dense darkness with foggy-diminished shadows of all those who once visited her life out of excitement(in not ok sense) and left out of amusement.
She’s wonderstruck if the amusement is within herself or the surroundings or the environment she is raised in..
Those teary eyes,dull-dumb minds,innocent hearts ♥ and the wobbly soul still questing for someone lost in woods tagged LIFE.
Because its my concert hall…
If something attracts your glance and splashes your mind with millions of old memories, the ones you have no control upon, the ones which became memories against your wish and you can’t do anything about, the ones that may remind you of some guilt of yours/ some mistake you committed, which made some sweet moments “the mere memories” as you say them, and if at that very moment, your eyes forget to stop the flood and the heart refuses to resist the pinching, then what you can only do is, that you’ve to think of them and just smile them off.
That’s the best way you can deal with that moment.
Share your experiences if any!
I stand alone,
Only me and no breath around,
Stand, in a desert of cells.
Yes, they are the animal cells.
Sand granules of the cold deserts,
Seem melting into a blue sea,
Sea, with a no usual water, called plasma.
The cell plasma.
Plasma, which I slowly begin to sink in.
The orange hued mitochondria,
And a food vacuole all around,
All around floating in it like monsters.
Do you think, sand melted because it’s the global warming out there?
That’s the result of the warmth in my body,
The warmth of the red blood running in my veins.
Oh, the sea also has creatures!
You didn’t know?
It’s the nucleus and the nucleolus,
Golgi bodies and the endoplasmic reticulum,
Lysosomes and ribosomes,
All resting in the palanquin,
Palanquin of thick, transparent, green plasma shade.
Gaining some wits,
I see I’m sinking.
Pushing it hard from the bottom, against the buoyancy,
I try my luck.
The cells seem to zoom out,
All to combine together forming millions,
Millions like the eggs of a toad laid in the waters.
Cells, combining to form the full human beings,
Beings with different colors.
The changing colors.
As I come out sliding of the dream,
The liquid starts evaporating,
Evaporating into some familiar gases.
The Oxygen, the Nitrogen, the Argon, the Hydrogen, the Carbon Dioxide,
Forming the air I dreamt in.
The numeric of Celsius shuffle once again,
From hundred degree Celsius dropping down to zero,
Forming the sand again,
And sand forming the deserted land back again,
With plenty of blind shades around,
Amongst which I stand alone,
With so many cells, and still no breath around.
Don’t forget to comment below your thoughts and experiences!
“What is he doing to me?”
Speculating, how he does that?
That with utmost perfection, he makes her fall,
A fall that she used to fear,
Fear, that tasted sour,
Sour, or she’d say caustic,
Fear, of falling for a man, once again,
All over again, once again.
Fear, that all of a sudden vaporizes,
Vaporizes, the moment he touches her,
Touch, so fine that she never had before,
Touch, that at a time she wanted to run far from,
From touch, now at times that she deeply craves for,
Craves for, all over again, once again.
So fluently that he comes around,
Around, making an adorable wax melt for him already,
Already until, she sense him grazing,
Grazing, kissing softly at the ruck of her neck,
Embracing every fold and every curl,
And his warmth sending prickles to her all over,
All over, fuming the air with his kinky rojo scent.
Feeling him breathe right below her chin,
She steps back,
Back, because she still fears the fall,
Fall until, he grabs her by the waist,
Pulls her back,
Back again, making her gasp a hollow moan,
Moan, so silent that her heart skips a beat,
For, she sniffs him by her side,
For, she feels a man by her side.
She keeps pondering, how he does that?
Crafting her fall,
A fall, she no longer fears,
A fall, she now longs for,
Mastering the skill, akin a boss.
I feel myself arrested by the chains of time. The ones who cross your path once, not necessarily stay forever. No matter how hard you try to steal them from destiny, it will always play its games. And midst these tantrums, stuck my soul. Acquaintance with fate is no more an acquaintance now. Very well do I understand it’s harshness. Somehow, I had always managed to withstand it’s shackles. But this time it feels as if it has arrested my soul once and forever. The heart seems stuck in an electric lift, falling down deep at an exponential pace. My fear is playing- ‘hide-and-seek’ with my innocence.
Does it hide in my mind?
Which cell to search?
Helpless eyes know nothing, but to shed some tears. This time scarcity found a new place to take a shelter in.
Scarcity in eyes? Strange? Yes!
Even the tears seem to get offended. The very thought of losing them blurs my vision as the leaking of the poison spreads all over my cells. The kid inside me is crying badly, but little does he know that his voice is the slave of his autism. No matter how high he raises the shrillness, the frequency, the pitch or the altitude, it won’t go past the flesh. It seems to have robbed me of my entire strength. A stiffness in muscles and a pain in the limbs refuse to stay away from adding on to the anxiety. Meeting them was a beginning of the magical fantasy indeed.
A fiction I read few days back, spoke exactly what I am going through today. Every word, every sentence, every paragraph then, seems to have joined hands with every single second, minute and hour of my time today.
Ever heard of a fiction becoming the truth?
Well, that happened to me. So I name it a magic, for magic is a synonym for belief and faith as an optimist views it.
And I do believe in magic.
I seriously do!
The span seems to end now and my soul is still stuck there. It refuses to come out. Somewhere fantasy has arrested it.
What do I do?
I find a simile to the clock that struck twelve and the magic spell was no more for Cinderella. The third bell of midnight hears banging my ears at the peak of altitude.
And the magical spell seems shattered into syllables with those few noble and the finest souls I met, going far from me forever. Yes! It’s no less than a fairy tale, as I name it.
And guess what?!
As I recited it to a friend of mine, the reply that came from the other side was-
“It’s life bro! Stop getting upset at such things. People will come and go. It will take time, but worry not, time is the biggest healer as they say it.”
Correct in one way!
How do I ever explain them; they are no people I am losing, but the magic that will be lost, the angels who will be lost, the fantasy I will lose, an era that will be lost.
The particles of a golden sand slip off my fingers.
I know that. I can feel the slip. I can hear the slip. I can see the slip.
What do I do?