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Come hither, mighty cloud, I need to talk.
Words; changelings left by emotions in our mind, having taken our true thoughts to another place. Since when did sounds and strokes define our very soul? How do we change the world, fall in love, tell our stories, marvel at beauty? It’s only words, and words are all we have.
I’m standing at the top of a waterfall; the trills of the bountiful stream, and the deep hums of the rocks it battles with, is a symphony for my aria of thought. I have locked eyes with the clouds and the sky, and infinity is below me. I don’t talk, or sing, or think. Words have run dry, but I do not try.
How do we change the world, fall in love, tell our stories, marvel at beauty? Maybe it’s when we run out of words.
Have you ever walked in on your mind, dreaming up another one?
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.
Thoughts; demons and angels battling over microcosms and multiverses, embroiled in a silent storm that rages only in the most cryptic part of our existence. How do we know the universe, except through our minds? It is a tiny pond, that reflects the infinite sky.
I’m standing at the top of a castle in the clouds, with only the wall and the edge visible above the infinite blue. I feel like an ephemeral thought in an infinite brain; but I know, the dreams I can dream are insane.
Existence is a fractal.
Where do I go to find you?
The Man In The Mirror.
Truths; chimeras, so out of reach, yet so intuitive. Duality has made us all fallen angels, stuck in limbo between right and wrong, not knowing that the truth is nothing but an unnamed song. So how do we live? What do we believe? Who do we answer to, when the curtain of reality is lifted?
I’m sitting in the sanctum sanctorum of a stone temple, majestic yet compassionate. What is it about these places? Why do I feel that they’re not trying to tell me the truth, but instead, that there’s no need for one?
We’ve collected a pile of rocks, and are waiting for God to come.
Come with me on a midnight walk.
Sky Full Of Stars.
People; souls adrift, like shards of an asteroid in the evanescent meteor shower that is life, sharing a million journeys to one destination. We’re all invariably connected, aren’t we? Engulfing everyone in the webs we spin and the ripples we cause; inseparable in our loneliness.
I’m sitting in a bus, its roar drowned out by our laughter and singing. The time, the destination, hunger, thirst, exhaustion; everything has faded into the rushing winds and landscapes. In that moment, we’re all free; we’re all out of the race.
We’re all sharing a drink called loneliness; but it’s better than drinking alone.
Begone, you darkness clinging…
Pain is inevitable. Suffering is not.
Sorrows; wounds cut deeper than the healing light can reach, hiding like shadows just underneath the fire. And as you burn brighter these shadows will loom larger; the only way they die is if the fire dies. I’m sitting under a moonless, starless night; feeling like nothing is right. I’ve been settling scores, chasing illusions, fighting for so long; spiralling in descending circles. I’ve realized, I’m not that strong. Is everything doomed to fade out, melt away; leaving nothing but emptiness?
We’re not who we are.
They say that I know nothing of love.
Love; the elusive force encompassing all of us, tainted, pure, intense, gentle; the invisible threads tying us together. How often have we pitifully tried to understand it, until we know it’s beyond us? It is the Sun; shy away, and you’re shrouded in darkness. Fly too close, and it melts your wings.
I look at her, she looks at me. I have my thunder, she has her storm. And together we shall transform, into tempestuous seas, always at war; into endless oceans, always at peace.
Love, ah love, sweet, sullen soulmate.
I have held my heart in my hand, and am waiting for home to come.
Home; is it a place, people, or just you? We’ve been searching for a piece of the universe to call our own, ever since we were born; somewhere we don’t have to pretend, where we’re untouched by the vagaries of the world, where things don’t have to end.
But all things do, don’t they? The faces you call home now smile only in a grainy photograph, the tree in your backyard has succumbed to the urban expanse, the smell of your house has now faded, the swing is still swinging, now empty…So do you just find new places, new people, never get attached to anything, anyone? Once a wanderer, always lost.
I have arrived, and am waiting for my heart to come. Once a wanderer, always home.
The sky is vast, my child, and the wind is wild, but you are strong.
Actions; what dominoes we topple, what hurricanes we bring, with each flap of our every wing. We have less control than we think; and yet, much more to conquer than we dream. There are predators on the ground, storms on your path, the blazing sun and its razing wrath…but all that matters is you fly, and share your story with the boundless sky.
I’m sitting with my thoughts and my happenings, pondering on what could have been. A tiny regret here and there, a twinge of remorse once or twice, a sense of failure now and then…but all that matters is what you do next, right now; everytime. No way but forward, right?
You are nothing else but the rest of your life.
These moments slip away like sand, as I grasp them with my failing hand.
Memories; drawings in a flipbook, where we choose the pages to turn; half faded, half forgotten, and even the ones that remain are corrupted by who we are and what we choose to believe. But that’s everything, right? All that matters is we hold on to them, for they are all that comfort you, in the spaces of your life.
I’m swimming in a river, and the sun is setting right into the water. Each stream is a train of thought, now blazing with the dying light, on its way to be scattered away in the ocean of the night. I grab on to the water; but of course it slips away. All I take solace in, is that I’ll meet it again some day.
You are nothing else but the life you’ve lived.
For in the end, all the love and laughter, anger and pain,
Will all be in vain,
Like tears in the rain…
Buy “BLUE LETTER’S” by Danish Abdi