a short excerpt from one of my many lonely nights...

As I sit here thinking what combination of words to form to transfer my thoughts onto this screen, i feel an oddly satisfying warmth in this cold night. It's raining outside, I can hear the streams sliding down through my pane, and it soothes my patience to come up with a deep thought to record in this dark mid-night.

I am keenly observing to find an inspiration to trigger my pace- is it the silence? is it the hollow echo? is it my loneliness? or is it this single tear that has quietly made its way to my ear after flowing down my right cheek; and I know it plans to wet my pillow just like the rest of them. But none of them can potentially inspire me.

I have started to believe that the harder one tries to shuffle his/her brain for ideas,the more difficult it tends to get to reach to one. Perhaps, it is in the state of sheer unconsciousness that inventiveness strikes the best.

Regret

Today, the vast blue blanket seemed pale…the day looked dull…the waves had lost their passion and the winds blew with much less fancy…even the slow chirps of the birds had lost their melody…nothing that I adored primarily was of least attraction now…not even the mighty sight of those huge mountains that stood there with equal dignity as before!…And this made me hate them even more…they had promised to be my best friends…they were always there for me every second...but now they were acting insensitive, emotionless, cold, unaffected and total strangers!

The running and flying sand seemed to hit me harder with every breeze that seemed more like a thick army of my foes…its blow only had a single mission, to suffocate me more…I felt it to have shaped its hands that were tightening their grip on my neck…and blocking my breath…

The usual calm, somehow seemed uncomfortable today…the silence of the surrounding seemed to have turned eternal…which nothing will ever be able to break…it allowed no interruption…no pause and no rest!

I tried searching for support…penetrating deep in myself to find comfort…but marveled was I not to find myself…I was lost…no desperate attempts and no dire tries would work now…no fret…no fear … no tears were of any use…I didn’t know where to look for myself…the self that was now vanished in the concentrated and gloomy forest of regret!

urge of revival

Once upon a time, my mind was a natural recipient to fresh and instant ideas. And words complemented those thoughts well. Now the mind has changed, the ideas have perished and the words have withered away. Why? The reason is yet to be discovered. The motive; yet to be unearthed. And the disease, still to be diagnosed.

But as I sit repenting on the decline of my creative state; there's a voice (from deep within) that's shouting at me. I can see it. Can't hear it. That voice is mine-I know; but how to reach it? I don't. It can help me- I know; but how to follow it? I don't.

In my quest of finding others I have lost my own-self. This is sad, but I am happy still. At least I have realized that I am not with me; and this is my first step towards my revival. But that's it; because I am still to find my way back to the original me, to help myself move ahead.