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Fast Track

It all happened in a matter of few seconds. From birth to realisation of reality. I almost did not want to believe it, but I cannot forget those eyes. Everything there could have been a mirage, but not those eyes. They were speaking a truth that I have smothered for long. Not that it will gush out now, but at least the slabs of stone that had compressed it, almost to nothingness, have now been dissolved.

I don’t have to do anything about it, I won’t even. But I cannot, now, relegate it deep down there.

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Meta Risk

I don’t remember them very well. Yet I do know that they have significance. Like a meta-value of something that is in a package. We can make out what’s in the package, guess what it is – but never know. The package conveys all the meta-meaning.

It risks passing on this meaning to the content.

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Righteous Pain

It was the right side.

He wished it wasn’t. Not that he preferred the left instead. But certainly not the right. A few days ago he had slipped into the denial of the folks he was conversing with. He was sure that’s where he had slipped.

There was a shiny steel plate that reflected his pain in all its glory. He remembered that face.

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Destination: Journey

He held one end of the long thread in his left hand, between his thumb and his index finger. Tightly. As if his life hung by it.

He knew the thread was red, before he slowly closed his eyes. With the index and the thumb of his right hand, he held the thread, leaving just about an inch of the red thread between what he held in his left and right hands. The left hand still tightly holding one end, he started moving his right hand away, along the thread.

As he ran his pinch along the thread, he felt the texture of the weave of the thread. After a while, the texture and the pull made tunnelled grooves between his fingers, the friction giving way and the thread passing through without resistance.

The feeling of the thread passing through his fingers was an experience that he sought. He didn’t want to find the other end of the thread. Though he knew he would eventually reach the end of the thread, that was only an indicator of the end of the experience. Nothing more.

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Wafting through the Dark

In the dark cube of the night, one rectangular cutout permits a regulated ray of grey. It is weak and succumbs to the dominating volume of the dark cube. It staggers and falls before it can pierce the cube. Angry red dots stare at me, wanting to be green; to be able to blast the black out of existence with light and sound.

Outside, various night sounds make their way. A gurgling crow, a distant aircraft, late vehicles and an innocent tinkle of a cyclist’s bell.

In this dead night, a life wafts through. Because only light can define surfaces.

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Dove

In my being me you saw someone else and held a mirror to my face. I saw that and what I saw in that mirror reflected on me. I became a different me. When I became that me, I did not recognise myself in my mirror. I remained a stranger to myself. For a while. The me in my mirror then reflected back on me and I become the me that I used to be.

But I lost some of the me that I was. I am now me, but parts of me, I don’t recognise.

I wear makeup now, till my real me shines back again.

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Two Guys

Two guys fighting.
One called I Belong.
The other called I Don’t Belong.
I Belong kept pulling inward.
I Don’t Belong kept pushing outward.
No one was winning.
No one was losing.
Both were equally strong.
I Belong said to I Don’t Belong:
“You don’t belong because you do not want to belong.”
I Don’t Belong replied to I Belong:
“You don’t really belong, you are just used to belonging.”
I Belong said to I Don’t Belong:
“You are just like me, you know, all you need to do is believe.”
I Don’t Belong replied to I Belong:
“You are just like me, you know, all you need to do is wake-up.”