Ufff!what a task! I scorched my soul in vain!I never took my hunch as a feeling that's why was never lucky!When a wise man,though i don't believe in that tag, would've trusted his head, i trusted the red in me and when the worldly went for the God's spell, i, as unexpectedly, chose to muddle along the grey(est)!A great betrayal, i consoled myself, again.It wasn't the cake for the warrior but for the flies, i reasoned; and trudged on, thrusting every step as deep as the warrior, inveterate, must.Reason has a strong sense of willing,Yeatsish, suspension of disbelief.It has Marxist tendency to question everything and (Barrack) Obamasist capacity to answer to nothing.Reason is, more often, a recluse than a reaper; a humorist than an entertainer; a sugary excuse than a salty solution; an expletive than a catharsis!But, all through my life, I've trusted reason more than the gospels, though gospels don't have anything for me, and reason is contrary to my learning.
Ah!i snapped my soul off slumber!The night was wearing darker, a few stray bird-yelping, frogs back into hell with their instruments of cacophonous tirade, and my soul, poor sole soul slugged off a dream.The dream, rather.What a world it was, flying world.Everything in air.You wished it and it came flying.Air so fresh and breezy; mountains... high and clear; valleys...wreathed in colours.Back with a bang.I guess it's the ground that's to be blamed for all the mess around, otherwise things remain the best as long as they are in the air.But ground is a realty, as discrete as the grumblings of an unsavoury crowd.Realty, actually, is an illusion that takes its saplings from the chartered expectations and , eventually, blossomed into a banyan of overburdened branches shading the few and overshadowing a few.I was not a man to fall for a mirage when i could see, clearly, through the misty dawn,a sunny morning beckoning.I moved on.What a task!
And then, walking down the memory lane i felt i wasn't alone.I looked around only to find the dawn grappling with the last fragments of the night.The morning was never the more frightening.I scuttled off along the way.I felt a call down the spine chilling my soul to pieces.A voice, many voices.They raised their cadence and i, a poor soul...sole soul, was sweating my nerves thick collecting the pieces of the peace.The path seemed familiar but not the ramblings.
Oh!Dreams, particularly the big dreams!They have a very strong undercurrent of fear.They have mountainous existence with molehill appearance with even stronger tendency to overlook the factual panorama.Like a big window in a big palace atop a hill looking into a flower valley, they offer a view not the fragrance...a smile, though transient, not a simile...an eyeful leaving the heart arching for more...a thirst than a drop of fresh water...they push you into oblivious than pulling you out of the obvious.Dreams are for never.
Ufff!What a task!An article for a magazine.
Ah!i snapped my soul off slumber!The night was wearing darker, a few stray bird-yelping, frogs back into hell with their instruments of cacophonous tirade, and my soul, poor sole soul slugged off a dream.The dream, rather.What a world it was, flying world.Everything in air.You wished it and it came flying.Air so fresh and breezy; mountains... high and clear; valleys...wreathed in colours.Back with a bang.I guess it's the ground that's to be blamed for all the mess around, otherwise things remain the best as long as they are in the air.But ground is a realty, as discrete as the grumblings of an unsavoury crowd.Realty, actually, is an illusion that takes its saplings from the chartered expectations and , eventually, blossomed into a banyan of overburdened branches shading the few and overshadowing a few.I was not a man to fall for a mirage when i could see, clearly, through the misty dawn,a sunny morning beckoning.I moved on.What a task!
And then, walking down the memory lane i felt i wasn't alone.I looked around only to find the dawn grappling with the last fragments of the night.The morning was never the more frightening.I scuttled off along the way.I felt a call down the spine chilling my soul to pieces.A voice, many voices.They raised their cadence and i, a poor soul...sole soul, was sweating my nerves thick collecting the pieces of the peace.The path seemed familiar but not the ramblings.
Oh!Dreams, particularly the big dreams!They have a very strong undercurrent of fear.They have mountainous existence with molehill appearance with even stronger tendency to overlook the factual panorama.Like a big window in a big palace atop a hill looking into a flower valley, they offer a view not the fragrance...a smile, though transient, not a simile...an eyeful leaving the heart arching for more...a thirst than a drop of fresh water...they push you into oblivious than pulling you out of the obvious.Dreams are for never.
Ufff!What a task!An article for a magazine.
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