The Lost Art of Words

The world, my world is topsy-turvy that is to say the least. Like most men who have lost much of their ways and ideas that define what the world means to them. I try, I try to both live and define what that is all that is all around me. In this vagueness is my salvation, so I fear I will find. Such damnation like the unlucky stars that burn up in a streak, I fear for my life to be such haphazard ordeal. Aimlessly I wander from existential crisis to consequential crisis, consequential to moral and from moral to back. Crisis after crisis I jump like a well-trained and ill-brained dog that knows not what to do but what it is taught to do.

Feeble is my heart so is my wantonness. Feeble is my thought and the grip that holds my pen. Flows not words but blood strained utterances, feeble cacophonous mutterings. Effortless fluency has ceased to be and in its place has risen a dauding emptiness, an exonerated decadence of mental faculty. Confused and intoxicated, devalued and misguided, all the stark reminders of a lost art and it’s ever the more lost artist.

A search into the dungeons of my soul is all I can. Searching for a muse that might still be wandering in it's dark alley ways. Lost in the catacomb of lost memories, some forgotten some deliberately wished away, slowly feeling and tumbling his way there about. There in its moss ridden walls I might find the old words that in an ungodly fervour I scratched ages ago. Neither do I have that fervour nor it's feeble descendants, all that were lost. In this age of impatient discoveries all that is left is hope, life’s one last beacon to desperately cling on to.

The Search for Love

I believe every one of us at one time or the other starts searching for love. Some go through their whole life ignoring their hearts desire just to search feverishly for what is it that matters on their death beds. Some others are truly lucky, Love finds them. Love presents itself in front of them in such lovely ways that it is impossible for anyone to ignore. Lucky Bastards. But many of us are not that fortunate yet we don’t give up, we are not undermined, we search for it with all our vigor.

Why do I love the silence of the moon,

The paradisal distance of the dawn,

I believe myself lucky when it comes to love. No, love did not show itself in front of me and knock on my door but I did not had to search much to find it an I was luckier still that I knew it when I found it. It really is true that when true love blossoms its hard to ignore and impossible to notice. It feels like the whole and everything in it comes to be revolving around that special someone. What you do and what you think, everything starts and ends with that someone.

The depth of eve mysteriously withdrawn,

Better than all the roses of late June,

One can always force oneself to love a person but that is not the true nature of love. At all times such love shall feel empty and its abysmal absence felt upon mankind? One cam always adjust, analyze and feel secure in love. Love is inherently volatile, unyielding and never shape. It is as chaotic as the moments of genesis was and so is it just as tranquil and serene as the midnight lakes. Love takes no prisoners nor ever call for peace, yet it is never the war nor the clandestine blood splatter.

The garden's breath, the orchard's golden boon,

The burning brightness of the new-mown lawn,

I had my heart broken not once, not twice nor thrice but many more a times. It has been bruised and it has been violated beyond healing, yet my heart could not stop itself from the vindictive search for love. Then came the absence, the abstinence and the stale doldrums and after all of the hells ailments came the light and came the peace.

The mossy forest-floor with beech-mast strawn,

And green trees waving in the depth of noon.

It was a smile at first and then a giggle, It was a hello at first and then serene silence, a touch then its prolonged absence, an emptiness and then the feeling of universal belonging and then the feeling of weightlessness sans hunger sans thirst. Like the vagabond clouds in the heaven his mighty and afterwards the freshness of the virgin earth at the first touch of the mighty rain.

Night hath her dreams and the lone heart its tears;

Silence and longing weep themselves to rest

Then one day in the autumnal bliss of the solitary morning, in her lovely poster resembling much mighty artists’ works and in the absence of time, space and reason I knew, I knew what is it that I held in my heart and unknowingly sans reason and logic I drew her near and sealed us with a kiss. Not a long prolonged slobbering of lust but the lightest brushing my trembling lips on her snow like cheek.

Each on the other's mild and maiden breast;

The seeking spirit sighs, the dim star hears;

Oh Bliss Eternal. This was the moment of great love that had extended many a millennia, time was not in any hurry and reason had not one bit of sand to stand upon. This was our moment and our alone and the all the earth and the heavens above were ours and ours alone. This was my moment of enlightening   and my moment of atonement. The final act of supreme love and from it came love and love only.

Distance and high devotion suit the best,

And deep as thy deep eyes the dawn appears.

Love: A Search for Meanings

Love is still as strange to me as it has always been, in my many pursuits to understand it; I have only succeeded in failing again and again. There was a time that the very search for its meanings made me tangle myself in thoughts, so strange that I myself wonder how I ended up brewing these thoughts in my mind. Strange as it may be, I still search for its meanings, even when it had cost me many a things.

In and out, I went of many relationships. Some were a ship wreck from the very beginning while others just went in through a series of unexplainable and unfortunate events before it could finally settle itself into a sense of awkwardness. But, believe me when I say, ‘ Every one of those relations were a lesson learned’. I should also admit that some lessons were much more than what I could have ever bargained for. The sense of tarnish and humiliation that was inevitable, even when I have done it all to keep it afloat, now that’s a wee bit uncomforting.

I beg pardon from all the ladies that had to read these words, and I do accept that not all the women are of the nature I may be discussing. I would also assure you that I have always thought highly of women, but these are a few that I had to face in my small life. There were quite a few women in my life that had come at me in ways that I myself could have never envisioned. The fact is they had in me vested interested that either I have not seen or have cunningly enough hid from my eyes. I have to say this that second one was of higher probabilities. The way those things turned out were particularly humiliating for me for one simple fact, they were not of my doings.

Those were events good enough to make any reasonable man lose faith in love and I do consider myself a reasonable man indeed. The real thing I had no more trust in anyone any more. All that I loved turned out to be more of a wreck and less of any help. The one factor was common, the one thing I could no longer find in any of romantic relationships were ‘Romance’.

Magic do happen when we are least expecting it and it did itself to me. It took me over a dozen years and a couple dozen relationships before I could see it. There it was in all its glory presenting itself to me, an offering from the gods. May be the heavens had enough of my little whining that they finally decided to show me the way. There was a  new day break and there was this girl nothing special , nothing profound, simple and natural. I will tell you made her special, it was not me and it was not love, There do exist a thing called a good heart and I could see one for the first time. She touched me in a way none has ever had, her touch was not of lust nor licentious, but it was of care and it was of sincerity and guess what I was in love again and I still am.

It would be a lie if I say I have not thought of any other girl since her, but this is true no matter whom I saw and whom I fancied and the end of the day she was the one whom I wanted to go back to. She was the only one whom I would care to care about, other were just beautiful to watch but she was beautiful to live with. And hence here I am happily committed and no longer in futile searches of meanings of this that I now believe are meant not to be understood but to be experienced.