Earlier this morning, I saw the laundry soaking the sober sun, while a cat was crying in a nearby wilderness. Two state of affairs violently striking in the same timeline. Talking of contrasting images, there’s butter and there’s dal. A mixture of which should be, if not already, downright violence.
Violence reminds me of our hearts. Being content or feeling fulfilled is a sin, or so i am told. My honey, that makes resting corruption, an unlawful act. This world demands constant motion. There’s beauty in this violence, this riot inside of me. I’ve been taught to be pleased with whatever little my hands can hold. But today, the chaos is starting to rub off on me. I can almost hear the screams inside my head. reiterating,
mad heart, be brave.
Einstein had said that gravitation is not responsible for us falling in love. Denying the obvious aspects of the statement, if i’m to hold something accountable for this matter, there’s the air. The air is infected. there’s no rest. I want you or nothing. If you come close and listen, the cat’s still crying, or maybe it’s the sound of the rebellion inside of me. I try to untangle strands of thoughts from my mind, which looks like overcooked ramen, of sorts. Ramen reminds me of buldak, which reminds me of a person who sings poor yet every collocation sounds nothing less than a lullaby. He’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.
Anyhow, i shall remember how this year flew by, with pain, with love, with quiet dreams and a heart that never wants to rest. I almost believed that the world changes its ways sometime or the other, but for every good day, there’ll be a bad one. For everytime we meet, we’ve to part. This shall go on, and with every rotation, every revolution, every movement of this universe, our faiths will be shuffled like a deck of cards. Remember, this world demands constant motion.
I am told, this phase is a trough, and I believe I am possibly paying off for some happy high crest. Perhaps I shouldn’t have eaten my first happy meal. I’m keeping count of my tabs. Until the next time i am shuffled, i’ll look at the laundry dripping moonlight. The cat must have learnt to tame his violence. The cat must have fallen asleep.
