Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Time was ticking, moments rushing. Yet, every moment seemed so less, so incomplete. Time refused to halt. The bomb refused to blow up. The moon shone in all glory. The hustle and bustle of an emotionless crowd surrounded us. Tears held back. The past hour raced by my mind. That proximity, that scent up my nostrils, that touch, that conversation. Piles of regrets, many irreversible truths. One big lie holding on to the remnants of the past.
I wish the bomb had blown up. Not one in this lifetime, at least united in death, with no barriers to deal with. Notorious faces passing by, adorning icy gazes that kept shifting away. Every time, my eyes met his, discarded dreams stared back at me. And however much my conscience urged me to tighten the fist, to stop letting the sand fall off, I could do nothing, but stare back.
I wish the bomb had blasted. Right where I stood holding his hand. No one knew what was playing in my mind. Not even me. We both knew, it was the last time. What no one was aware of was that a little explosion had happened. The walls that I had created stood burnt down. An explosion created out of a flame that was never put out. It was always burning in that little corner. Carefully shielded so that it's rays stayed intact. Hidden away from worldly eyes. A sacred flame of true love, now forbidden.
Scribbled by Sherry Italia at Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Friday, February 15, 2013
Human psychology is actually not as complex as we think it to be. All it takes is a compatibility between the needs of the mind and the desires of the heart. The third zone, the world is something that is out of our realm, but being social animals, the world becomes an important deciding factor, even in situations that it should not be. The conflict is often between the mind and the heart, and when truce is called, the world strikes. The world full of so many minds and so many hearts. You face the music there as well. Efforts are made to arrive at a consensus. But here, consensus implies a compromise. The world will never compromise. It is always you who has to bend and hit the gallows.
We maybe the rebels to the world, but for someone else, we are a part of that cruel world. We are one of those minds, one of those hearts. One of the reasons for someone’s sacrifice. One of the causes of a probable suicide. A mercy killing of ambitions. A loss of hope. A missing flame. And many dead men walking in search of their abandoned souls.
You may be soul searching as you read this. You may be trying to make the ends meet. But each time you give it a shot, the ends move even further away. You may be just one of those dead men trying to seek a common interest between you and this world. You may be one of those afflicted who are lost in the war between choice and consequence. You must be the one trying to find your way out of that maze.
“Hold my hand. We’ll walk it through.” How you wish you could say that.
But it’s never too late to rescue. The sea is full of those wanderers. Each one seeking a destination – real, virtual. You are a part of them. Hold one hand. Reach it to a safer shore. It really does not take much.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Conversations ceased to happen as they watched the burning candle, its wax dripping off in cautious steps. The gradual falling apart, after having burnt in the flame of passion. The fire danced hypnotically in their eyes, in a bid to warm cold hearts. The ruthless winds had chilled their bones. The much needed warmth, they once found in the confines of each other’s arms was amiss. Companions in solitude, they knew it was time bid adieu. To every rush of memory, to every hug around the corner, to security found in embraces, to shared spaces, to intimate moments, to each other. The end was near.
The plates were clean. Totally wiped off. No signs of remorse, no marks of emotions. They left their tables, the squeaky drag of their chairs being the only audible recall. Like mimes of fate, they walked together, yet far apart. Two weakened souls, burdened in misery, too shattered to hold each other.
A tinge of sadness groped the evening sky. A melancholic tune amidst leafy rustles, humming a half remembered song. The road broke apart under a lonely streetlight. Their shadows held on for a while, longing to speak. And then they walked their separate ways as the world spun madly around them.