He came into her life unannounced. She took him in as one would let a stranger in on a stormy night for shelter. For a brief moments only silence spoke. Names were not exchanged verbally. He whispered it into the warm air of the room. Giving him something warm to wear they sat by the fire. When his eyes were set on her , she looked away. When her eyes caught his being, he was fixated on the fire. Oblivious to the happenings of the world outside, what transpired between them happened too soon, or so it seemed now. Every night he was lost in the woods, he would some how end up at the door of her house.
| Fast forward to Now |
I have skipped the good times, the convenient times, the conditional times, the pleasant times, the unpredictable times. She knows why. He knows why.
It seemed like he was a messenger of the storm itself. He brought it in with as much ease as he came into her house. Causing turbulence with his erratic, erroneous, eccentric and eclipsed behavior. Where would she go now?
She sat. Sat and thought to herself about what was becoming of her. It seemed like aeons of time had swept her away and the only thing she could feel was him. He had set ablaze a fire in the forest of her life and left.
He came back only to make sure she was still burning. Her infinite being would take infinity to burn.
True to his name. He came, he saw , he conquered, he etched and his remains still remains.
| Fast forward to Now |
I have skipped the good times, the convenient times, the conditional times, the pleasant times, the unpredictable times. She knows why. He knows why.
It seemed like he was a messenger of the storm itself. He brought it in with as much ease as he came into her house. Causing turbulence with his erratic, erroneous, eccentric and eclipsed behavior. Where would she go now?
She sat. Sat and thought to herself about what was becoming of her. It seemed like aeons of time had swept her away and the only thing she could feel was him. He had set ablaze a fire in the forest of her life and left.
He came back only to make sure she was still burning. Her infinite being would take infinity to burn.
OMG !!!!!!!! Every word you wrote , i can feel it !!
ReplyDeleteMy favorite line being : " He came back only to make sure she was still burning. Her infinite being would take infinity to burn."
Names are always, somehow, desires. Of someone else.Some1 else's dream whispered into a being. It is of course, irrelevent,tht the being which now walks and dreams, was irrelevant in the process. If u know what i mean- passion and dreams, and here u are, wriggling, screaming, dreaming of walking and fucking.
ReplyDeleteBut lets move. the problem, i believe, is the word, or its form? FOr how do u express your worlds in some1 elses words. How do u borrow, and steal, other people's worlds- some before u, some just rit there, to will into being a world that is crazily and infinitely yours? And for how long can that world exist?
I dont know. But what i am waiting for is that moment of brilliant lucidity when my world will be expresssed in mine and not people who spoke abt supermarkets in california, or the crscent moon hanging on the brilliant american night. i want to howl in my own words, in my own worlds. the rest Is just a moment pregnant with a pause. This piece probably sounds nice, or looks nice, coz it talks of striped pyjamas, and histories, and all the other things that we battle with in our minds when we are not on facebook, or when we are just walking lucid, brief, organised streets with a fresh coat of melting snow. But this piece is still not mine. It remains just that- a name, a desire, of something. something which probably flew out of my window.
And when i will be ready to will into being words my own- i will breathe them into my own blog. Till then, lets remain true to names.