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Saturday, April 07, 2007

This moment (march 21st)

What is it that I ask of myself? I know not of the agony of words that I impose upon myself. It is not the mystery of darkness that calls me this night. It is the feeling of loss that catapults as a gain. It is not the trifling sadness in life that I talk of. It is the word life that I think of. The loss of direction is where I corner the stones of memories. The way back, the life that I have led, the situations that caught me meek, the reasons most illogical to be labeled as “mean” by this world. Half of the life seems to have been lived with the right and wrongs charted by the society.

The discretion of self will and self considered righteous rights of birth, life and death seem to be controlled not by the giver, but by the manipulator. Where have the delicate strands of my life been caught? My life resembles the tombstone that is adorned with the wreaths of moss and bugs. My past, an epitaph of my present grave.

This moment, seems to stand long and still. This very moment makes me cry and laugh as well. I can’t figure the mistakes rated high with the society as my tools of regret. Where has my instrument of reason vanish? Why do I write words dictated by my mind, the mind that is guided by the will of writing? The will of writing, a weak slave of the motion of desire.

Where can my stripped body find faith? My ideas seem washed in the carpet of love. My thoughts blur in the concept of pragmatic society. Where is my happiness locked? Where am I heading with the burden of imposed past and regrets on my shoulder? Lest this sound as a worry for future, it’s the least that a mind as lazy as mine would ever think of. It’s the present. It is this moment. It is this very life that has stood still in the present, making me ponder over the realm of nothingness.

To swim in this stillness, is to invite an end to the moving time of life. It is not cowardice that you shall label this moment with. Neither is it the work of the idle weird mind. It is the art of perceived silence, this moment beckons. It is the silence amidst the retrospection offered when standing alone at the beach, waves sloshing over my feet, my eyes lost in the width of the horizon and the mind wandering an aimless journey to a unseen known goal.

I cherish this moment. This moment that I do not wish to let loose. This moment that might put an end to the joy of life. This moment that raises its enigmatic voice, appealing to me of the sadness of death, I so name as peace. Peace in a piece of moment.

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