Thoughts drifts through, like a breeze, with out warning, sometimes prickling the barren eyes with a sudden gush of tears. To restrain from dropping a precious droplet with out knowing the reason, rewinding the thoughts may not find a new reason, because most of the times the inner self works with out a reason. Crying out loud in loneliness, the thin air around dissolves with out empathizing, and looks back with solemn eyes.
Probably because it was injected in the veins from childhood, tears reflected weakness, and the never wanted to fail man, tried in vain to hold it. Staring at the endless horizon, the eyelids strained not to blink, to save the water filled eyes from draining out. As if to console, the flowing tears makes a last attempt with its saline taste, oozing in to the taste buds. The congested trachea makes it all the more difficult to the already tired willpower to rejuvenate.
The hollowness within, desperately makes effort to fill the void with a little hope, failing in each moment. The inferno inside incinerate all such attempts, leaving just ashes behind, which would act as reminiscence in future episodes.
Even the ability to survive those moments are not rewarding, as the resurrection is temporary, and it continuous in a vicious circle. It might even be a purposeful decision, not to put out the flame, since even the insecurity of loosing the thought is dreadful.
When, even the time stops and takes a curious look at those emptiness, endless would seem, the yet to come very next minute, not to mention the rest of the day. Freedom from the sequestration of ones own thoughts, is just a matter of time, if only time moves. Escaping from an island with deep sea on all sides, could just be another miracle. The black hole of thoughts do not allow even the tiniest of hope to escape, leaving you alone in a world of darkness. Ray of hope which makes a desperate effort to break the shackles, traveling all the way up, would be deflected and suppressed under crippled attitude.
Even when you live decades of grueling insomnia, surviving the very next moment would seem impossible. Ninety pounds, when once lifted with easiness, little did I realize it is not the muscles but the mind that made it possible, at times could make you feel even nine pounds is heavier than the ninety.
Even though when I know all these, next time my vision blurs again as tears drown my eyes as the wind drifts by.
Probably because it was injected in the veins from childhood, tears reflected weakness, and the never wanted to fail man, tried in vain to hold it. Staring at the endless horizon, the eyelids strained not to blink, to save the water filled eyes from draining out. As if to console, the flowing tears makes a last attempt with its saline taste, oozing in to the taste buds. The congested trachea makes it all the more difficult to the already tired willpower to rejuvenate.
The hollowness within, desperately makes effort to fill the void with a little hope, failing in each moment. The inferno inside incinerate all such attempts, leaving just ashes behind, which would act as reminiscence in future episodes.
Even the ability to survive those moments are not rewarding, as the resurrection is temporary, and it continuous in a vicious circle. It might even be a purposeful decision, not to put out the flame, since even the insecurity of loosing the thought is dreadful.
When, even the time stops and takes a curious look at those emptiness, endless would seem, the yet to come very next minute, not to mention the rest of the day. Freedom from the sequestration of ones own thoughts, is just a matter of time, if only time moves. Escaping from an island with deep sea on all sides, could just be another miracle. The black hole of thoughts do not allow even the tiniest of hope to escape, leaving you alone in a world of darkness. Ray of hope which makes a desperate effort to break the shackles, traveling all the way up, would be deflected and suppressed under crippled attitude.
Even when you live decades of grueling insomnia, surviving the very next moment would seem impossible. Ninety pounds, when once lifted with easiness, little did I realize it is not the muscles but the mind that made it possible, at times could make you feel even nine pounds is heavier than the ninety.
Even though when I know all these, next time my vision blurs again as tears drown my eyes as the wind drifts by.
