Weep!

Weep, my friend
Till you attain the calmness of this river
Till you become this river
Daughter of river faded away behind the sombrous woods
She erected a labyrinth around herself
Impermeable,
A stranger is there only to lose his way!

Weep, my friend
For the golden fields and mango groves,
The song which she still owes to you

The stormy oceans are still there beckoning you
to become one among the salty drops.
I must unlearn myself,
The tragic art of hearing music from emptiness
The murky world of never happening loves

Oh my friend
Start liberating the world and words
From your whims,
Your imaginations strangulate the space and time
Let them go on its flow
Never warp the delicate strings
Leave them to its peace of unsung hymns

Free your eyes from the shackling words of non sense
Breathe an air of reality
Half brittle, half bitter
Become one among the ocean drops
Never stand apart
You won’t hold the mighty oceans or the silent river

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Mango groves and golden fields kept on lingering on my mind for such long. Now its time for the reality check . If you can see any common strings between last three posts, then there you are. The recurrence of golden images! the futility of imagined world and puzzling minds.
Last 2 weeks were such a period of turbulence that I couldnt resist writing them down,if not I couldnt survive anymore. All my teardrops ossified into crystals forming shapes that mocked at me. People around me were a little bit afraid of my sudden short temper. Although later I explained to all, attributing all blames on ICICI!
The illusion of being special always misled me into imagined world from which it is always hard to escape.
I dont want to explain anything more, thats it !

There is an evident change thats prominently marking the tone ofwords. Its the pain of earning for distinctness. The abyss of mediocrity is attracting me. I cant hold this existential angst. I am going to settle down in this mediocre world. I don't want to know any more I don't want to stand apart.

I remember a poem of mine in malayalam long way back, declaring my independence from all established notions. The poem which wanted to be a water drop left separate from all oceans, a bud which earned to be out of all forests.

Now its time for checking the pulse!

I am going back to the same ocean of common worlds and words.