I walked through a meadow of withered daisies, with a famine of feelings in my heart;
It was an autumn of the summer, and the fragrance of a floating lotus in the fringing lake was waiting to depart;
Gasping the gloom around me, I ran avidly, tossing away the ruins of regret, grief and agony;
The dew-beaded petals of the lotus pranced innocently, vibrating a vivacious poetry, brimming with the beauty of the blooming daisies.
Boiling within me is a feeling; As strong as an instinct, as weak as an eddy in the wind;
It sits like a sturdy rock in the garden of my heart, trampling my popping positivity and suffocating my creek of courage; slowly turning it into a land of drooping dignities like broken strings of a harp;
I am not a stranger to this emotion, it grips my mind often; Points and lines stretch and twist to form parabolas and polygons in the plane of my mind, giving rise to an obscure geometry centered on “I”.
Uncertainty is like a void; It gets filled with space for a moment and snow in another; It is like a gray day after a long summer.
Uncertainty is like a hushed thunder screaming deafness at a garden brimming with buds; It is like the calm before a fierce flood.
Uncertainty is like a pale sunset sky, with hues of yellow, orange and blue scattered over the horizon of the heart, waiting for tranquility and the dark; It is like a flickering bulb in a room with walls covered in interrogation marks.
Uncertainty is like a weary kite soaring in a sky blotted with burning clouds; It is like ploughing in the season of heat and drought.
Uncertainty is like a floating balloon filled with bubbles and paper boats; heading towards a sea coast covered with brambles, vines and hollies; It is like a melody lost in the cacophony of fright, dismay and agony.
Uncertainty is like a dense forest crowded with trees, branching out words and punctuation, rooted in question marks and extending high in the dark sky dotted with asterisks; It is like a rainbow stained with black ink.
Uncertainty is like smoke from a burning diary that extinguishes the ray of sunlight, piercing through a cracked window; It is like a day with no tomorrow.
Its been a while now, the tears are no more fragile now, something somewhere went terribly wrong or is it just my judgement, just my fault?
Old faces appear in a flash, those eyes that face brings a chill from a place I don’t belong. It feels heavy, the chest and the mind, I have been travelling for long; in this mustard wind, gasping at places, plucking away all the wrong.
Is it now or is it never? How long will this battle last, will it cease forever?
The sun rises and the sun sets, the dark breaks in without an invite. Voices around tickle my ears, I hear giggles, screams and utter silence, but the clock screeches and strikes.
The wait seems never ending. They say faith and trust are the key, the flower blossoms after a prolonged wait, despair and sad are the soil for “happy”.
What to do, what not to, seem to hover the quiet of my mind, like a flock of crawing crows in a peaceful sky. The decisions that slipped my way and the choices I made look like hazy puzzles in every step of this maze.
She drapes her yellow-tinted saree like a blanket of sunlight over snow-wrapped mountains; her wrinkles so slender like the movement of river, depicting struggles that are countless.
Her words are like flowers waiting to blossom, and her voice so fragile, like a leaf in the season of autumn; And her eyes so innocent, like that of a child, reminding me of the days when she giggled and smiled.
As I sat sipping on my mug of searing water, my eyes rolled aimlessly across the room; absorbing the frail light from the inanimate objects and those blooming periwinkles, scattered in the bowl.
Staring absently at the curtains, a stream of caged images aired plainly before my eyes; each dissolved into nothing, following the farewell by a grin, hinting the departure of my ally.
With my eyes struck on the minute hand of the wall clock, I slurped sensing the mellow touch of water on my lips; the stillness of the moment engulfed every rushing thought leaving my conscience tangled in a hum brimming with blues and pinks.
A Quiet Cacophony of Clouds 