Paul Anka, 

... Love is a lonely song. Very true. 

How do people forget and move on?

an endless search...

I am looking for something amidst ruptures, penitence, copious tears and sobs; something I have lost, may be eons ago; but know not what it is. Something whose sheer presence would imprison my awful thoughts; something that would touch up my unseen wounds and bruises.; a sponge that would absorb my tears. Is that then a missing link, a talisman? They say I have not lost it and have it already somewhere hidden inside me. That remains to be explored. But I need it desperately before embarking on such an expedition. But sometimes a thought crosses my mind that I would get used to everything without it. Why do I search then??? What could be the reason? Is it then for the sheer pleasure of it?

Thus Spake He Once...

Wish I were blind. I am tired of looking at the world through the window of my eyes. I cannot close the window. It is not in my hands. The doors of the window are broken or stolen. I have no idea whatsoever. Not that I am desperate to know. But spare me the horror of excess vision. I cannot stand it. They say that excess of or in everything is good for nothing (I do not know if it is bad). But am I only cut out for this excess vision? Am I the only one with a disabled window? If there are countless others with such windows then how does the view differ? If visions are destined to differ then should not I be proud of my unique vision? Why should I partake of, borrow or affiliate myself with your vision? The fact is I will not and cannot. It is against my ethics. Why are you so hell bent then on forcing me to see the way you do? Can it happen the other way round? Your answer would be no. How can my answer be yes?

A Moment Worth Forgetting

A moment comes in life when the ground we stand on turns feeble. The dwindling state marks the certainty of our fall. Finally we fall with no glory whatsoever attached to it. This time it becomes very difficult for us to rise. Through no fault of our own when we fall or thrown into a state of utter humiliation, we lick our wounds and rise subsequently, for we are not at fault. But it becomes next to impossible to rise when we fall for a silly mistake. There is no rescue from this random descend. It is like when a warrior never troubled by gushes falls prey to a minor bruise.

I

know

that

you

will

pull

me

back

from

the

brink

The morning was pleasant. But a blinker of darkness was still covering the world - of which I was a denizen. My eyes parted and there was light on the objects around. But there were some eyes, open though, yet the darkness therein was inexhaustible.