Wanderings..

Deep in the recesses of my mind, I hear the silence of my soul.  The garden of life, rife with the flowers blossomed afresh and the ones wilted at the hands of neglect. There’s a charm in the rawness of it all, even as it looks a poser – beckoning to prune it with my own hands.  As I’m drawn to get to its core and let passion rule, the flurry leaves a confounded sense of disbelief. I believe, I do and I don’t and I have to or is it just convenient. I evolve, but really, do I ever..?

To come to think of the consequential, the eventualities that could stall a journey called life – not sure if even death comes close ! And to think of a journey replete with meaning would lead to what .. ? And meaning is but a word, or just another word. Having scaled the heights of a language, defined thoughts that are otherwise only the impressions on my mind, I reconcile with the universality of my being.  But sometimes the truth of distinction and difference is glaring even after giving it euphemistic hues. The veil of sobriety covering the most hideous of a face and a make believe existence of it being all right, can't take away the viciousness of it all. And the most innocuous of all the expressions, for all that looks beyond my reach, in mending the ways I want to tread, is a little sigh that escapes and another breath as almost an immediate after- effect, replaces it unabashed and hopeful.

How I have been flirting with my thoughts, as mere entertainer for my being, that rests disinterested and removed from the antics of a desperate another being in me, yearning for an experience, indulging in the shenanigans - understood to be the basis of a reasoned life. A constant push and pull and the ultimate crashing into an unknown everyday which I call a routine is what I fade into. 

I sometimes wonder at the legacy of hope showered on us by the very fact of our being human beings. And it would be so unfair to deny its play and its hold in keeping one from reducing to a bundle of shreds. I hear the laughter, the chatter, the groan, the cry all rolled up in one voice and that voice is mine too. I end up partaking my own share of rain and sunshine as I feel it on my skin and as I isolate from the fact that it percolates that - which exists.

The awe for the marvels we see in life is perhaps its very nemesis. In the realms of imagination- the glitter and shine of success, fame, eloquence, love, peace, joy and tranquility will keep moving the mountains and the seas, for I will believe.