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Monday, April 6, 2009

Expression

Life is like a dream that ebbs with the tide, where reality is but the illusive moon that hides behind the clouds. And so only when we sleep we find to have woken and see what shape is given to our reflection in the mirror we face in the eyes of the world.

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Day after day is a battle fought, won and lost. Screaming in the face of the society only to find ourselves in tears for the time we lost. The youth and strength we were once proud of is replaced by the manacles of compromise and the promise of the never to come ‘happily ever after’. The choices we made were always wrong and the right ones were those that never seemed to have crossed our mind. So far, so good; is always the answer which is murmured in twisted words every other minute to offer solace to a bleeding heart.

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Ours is an age like none other and life is less than what we see. The only gift given to us is to make the minutes ticking away count. Who am I is not the question to the answers we seek, rather it is what can I be?

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However, each day that passes by, I watch the expressions of the dawn that lapses into the tawny dusk. Every ‘individual’ I see and come to know seem forever twisting in their worlds which they forever have strived for. There are shades of grey in all of us which invariably or rather involuntarily seeps out from time to time, but what to make of the pools in neglect and shades of misconstrued acts which we believe are the said answers to circumstances? There were those dreams which once fed the aesthetics in us. Now overshadowed in the illusive chaos of reality where the toast to life, our expression ultimate, is lost in the throes of the joining the mass.

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At times when the intellect and the thirst for control took over the better of us the conscious in the mist of looming desperation; the words that reckoned belong to manipulation and irrational pretense. Or rather the object forces of overwhelming emotions to make-believe a curious play to sustain our measure in the world.

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Far away from the monotony of life and existence, there are the days of the fresh spring air where the very earth smells of the magical effervescence that the rain casts on the soil with its heavy drops. The leaves and the grass are quenched of the thirst and the fiery summer gloom is finally extinguished. There lies the scent to a new beginning! There is the moment when magic can be achieved by the hands of man. Just a voice could be the silent spell that invokes the stormy fervor of ardor within us all creating the afterglow of a serene sanctuary. A moment where we realize we are alive and the joy of life is not really far.

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I shall beg grace from the people I drew inspiration from to write this expression of extraordinary events. What I write here did happen and there are only a few instances that differ in the time line and order of veracity. But somewhere I hope you would walk with me again on those blooming days and see the face we left on each other in our vivid memoirs.

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Raw

A simple abstract from my manuscript which I wrote many a month ago, philosophizing on certain unembellished thoughts of expression. There is a lot more of course, it leads to a few chapters I had written not long ago.


For more, follow the white rabbit:
http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2656632/1/Heavens_Denied

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