Neon studded night. Red and yellow lights were running across so fast, so much haste all around, they had somewhere very urgent to go. I didn’t know to where? It’s okay. But did they themselves know where they were setting off to? Few rhythmic systematic red and green lights were flashing in some fixed points controlling the speedy motion of those red-yellow lights. All around your head above there’s just bright alluring light flashing on trying to inject the first of the seven sins into you, the greed. The lights were so bright that you’d even be blind. And I’d prefer no risk. So I kept my vision fixed at the ground at my shadow. I really enjoyed how my shadow grew longer and then shorter as I walk away from one street-light to another. I walked with thoughts rambling in my head.
We all are running. For what? We want equilibrium. That’s the phase everything wants to be in. That’s why water flows, wind blows, to be stable. We are running cause we also want to be stable. We think that when we’ll touch our dreams we’d be stable. So we run to catch our dreams.
People have dreams. They live for it, run for it. When they achieve it they start running more as their dreams getting larger. So is the dream like the horizon? We always can run for it, but never can touch it?
May be dream is like the other bank of the river. We imagine that other side as a fairy-land. But when we're there it seems as a normal kind of thing. Then the former side seems to be more dreamy.
So whatever the dream is do we always run for it throughout all our life?
To chase our dreams we are taught to run according to time. We try to be punctual. Punctuality. The word appreciated by all the successful people. But isn’t it the word for machines? This is the word that makes you perfect, out of chaos. You’ll be in the peak of success. But only thing that you’ll lose is your beauty. Cause there nothing more beautiful than being chaotic.
So what will you choose among your dream and beauty? Really a hard call. These words are all so... so...confusing. really hard to penetrate them through. Words. The greatest magician of the world rather of the universe. Or I better consider the word, ‘Words’ as the greatest magic. Magician is the guy who believes in it and use this simple yet most powerful thing, ‘Words’. May be I’m wrong. ‘Words’ are just a medium, of course mediums are important, but I’d better consider the master of magic is the eternal ‘Imagination’. That’s the thing that never changes. Never dies. Words, their meaning, their usages change. Even whole the languages change. They live, they die. Their magic fades pale. But the ‘Imagination’s deep beneath those words never change, never grow old. They live forever young. But ain’t again we back to the ‘Words’ who preserve the ‘Imagination’s to live forever? In fact then we see ‘Words’ do the magic. See, they die but keep the heart inside them alive, the ‘Imagination’. So who does the magic actually? The ‘Words’ or the ‘Imagination’ or the man who dare to have them both or the nature who created all of them???
Whatever we do why do we do it? Whatever we do in life will be insignificant, but it's very important that we do it, because nobody else will. Is it so?
What we are living for? What are we grabbing to? What the thing we don’t wanna loose? Those dreams? That beauty? Those words? Or that imagination?
But isn’t it true that no matter whatever we hold on to nothing lasts? ... but still nothing is lost...
“If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is: infinite.”
Star studded night. Dark. Cold wind is blowing through my hair. Continuous sound of cricket from the field on my left and a discontinuous howling of something from a distant are being heard. I’ve just walked through two decades wandering in these mazes of broken thoughts. Being lost in my thoughts I stumble on a stone. I smirk and keep walking into the depth of my thoughts...
