The self and the rest of the best that swirls around my world at times and on other they just ties up. Rarely in the very next moment I tend to see how much affinity i used to have in a longer run for some acquaintance or for none? In the most inner self of my ruckus till date that have left me unsettled till now is not for one or the some to blame for the nor the devil neither the deity. But yet once you take a closer rule in to the reflection of the whole spectrum what you see and realise is leave for left is some part of yourself.
In the exile of the thought where you might once forget some of the most memorable moments but you simply won’t forget the one the very one when shared something so close as touching skin. Where the skin perspired together living in the winds died there own death as no gale came for them. What I have realised that such a moments of close proximity leaves you in a lurch. People die fast young and old but moments are awake till the blood rushes in to your head.
Being for the first flower you saw blooming, the smell of wet soil, and the cuckoo of the birds, the first train journey, and the drop of coin as pocket money, the first bike ride, and the first time you kissed someone and the first time you lived in the confidence of the else. Like as boyzone sings “it’s only words and words are all I have “a promise unkempt is like a many such moments brazenly alive. We don’t mind where its mind in to it only, the rest is questioned too and thrown in the mud to settles down under the scorching heat for some more layers. As they remain unturned they form their own history of existence and death.
It mere human nature like the dogs tale like the swinging branch like the rising tides like the snowfall, like the money swirling from trees to trees like the waves dancing over each other next to none but the self or other self of the one
Complex isn’t it this is how I perceive it may be just a brood. Next for the lost innocence in the exile from those acquaintances as the world calls may be too less to be talked about or even mere for profusion. I seek a staring in the eyes to seek the truth that how I have turned is not what I feel I shall have liked to. Mostly the breeding disconnect with the connected and less is dying apart for less or more I am like an alien over the greenery where some flowers bloom but only to be washed by the pouring rain drops. Much more the affinity that was visible is getting blurred with a few more connected in the longest short distance I have travelled over the sparkles on the eve of lights on a couple of years. Yet the stand reaffirms the fall over proximity of just being alike a loss again, a triumph I guess I shall breath under the castle for the overgrown gust. To be penned yet further….
