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The quote is here to narrate, in the bleak silence nosediving straight to conclusions; Failure.
You know you are out when you are out and out is where you don’t know you will spend your unwise time under what unknown dream. Days may not mean date and on watch will the clicks make circles, but you won’t wait in the driest summers nor in wayward dance of sudden life. Struggle is where you’ll be pained knowing pain is an easy sleep. Encircling around some people will your expectations be, knowing stuff like this won’t make a difference. And suddenly, you won’t know and you’ll be there, simplifying philosophy, defining laggards, engineering arguments and defying identities. And suddenly, you will realise something you shouldn’t have, something you should definitely have stayed away from, something which cracks and makes noise, something that crawls and gets nipped, something like a fool’s day out.
Yes, you are. Helping meager energies drive you crazy, pea-sized heads showing you your breath, ambition showing you eyes, carelessness showing you your feet and missionless discussions clipping your precious words on the hangwall. Yes, it’s time to go back. Be nothing. Care nothing. Sleep. Peace. Prize. Dream.
Call, and call to the cause that lifts you, laces you up from dents, makes you shine when painted with success. Say hello, and hello to what you don’t dream but see in reality, those people coming up for you with glitter in their eyes, proud in their hearts and gratitude towards what you did for them, something that elated them from their past. Help is what they need, is what you can offer and not only offer but can make sense for everything, everywhere.
But failure, in the supersonic speeds upfront still hides behind every taken breath. Still, there’s reason of hope, if it’s there to stare at you, pointing at you, asking you why you did what you did. Did you think enough? Did you do enough? There’s reason to resume, why not! Nothing else awaits. If it does, am I capable enough? Am I worthy enough? Rather than going where I need to go, where the time calls for, it’s for me okay to be where I am. To resume to culprit emotions of mine in the professional spaces of today’s time lacing me myself to drive me up, elating me, preparing me, letting me know what I don’t. That’s the world and that’s the failure.
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I tell a story of emptiness. It’s empty, purely vacant, the time, space and the people. When I ask why I think so, it’s the nothingness that seeps through sanguine labyrinth of lies and deceit within me. A failure to accept and let sleep on the doses far recommended to allow breath passing through veins.
Once there was no sky to turn up to, no land to let the feet rest only if the sun had bothered enough to hide in the universe’s wilderness, had you step out of your misery evident not by your face, your present, your hate, your undulating hum sulking in the nappier serving of my voice trying to seep in, wherever it may proceed like a forest fire on the day of dooms, you should have necessarily walked a step of reason, a direction, a commitment and conviction. Whose rest days are over yet he’s in sleep, his deeds point to you bearing anger in his nerves.
His gifts were ample, rising and shining in the palace of achievements, corroded sometimes by the emptiness of time, hidden sometimes by the honourable treaties of friendships and stolen sometimes by deceit and mistrust. If this is about an explanation as to what led to what, who assumed they deserved better, or time, special it might be, comes but with flowers squished to maintain the aroma of a better life, those roads leading to destinations free and safe, then it might be safe to announce that it’s a life where there is an empty space, time and a soul on roam.
Search for a better sleep is on and so is to find a being whose rhythm matches yours, whose kindness is to dig deep into you and bring out the diamond, whose need is not to overshadow your everything or to demerit you of your pain you endured to be not what others have become, neither to give you hopes encoded to make you imitate your heart to a chicken waiting death, but make sense of the day and the nights, living or dead, thought or no thought, you or someone else. You gave me nothing. I dared my uneasiness to open up for you, a leading edge returning me commonality, betrayal, hopelessness, failure, sadness, and you despite of all the hurt I offered you.
World was kind, and misguided I was. I led to you in all my powers, entrusted upon you my tears shivering me down my nerves and bounced back only to realise that the world hasn’t ended, the tears haven’t dried and the story isn’t concluded. The rise is yet to be ensured to the beneficiaries of such a relation. Dug deep in the silence of the soul is an eye wide open and voice singing lore of today, this very time is when the two meet and talk endlessly till the dusk doesn’t die and the dawn never comes. Let both of them get dry from the rains of pains, let not a sight bear the sign of fear and let not them go away without a necessity to live. World was kind, and misguided I was. I led to you in all my powers, entrusted upon you my tears shivering me down my nerves and bounced back only to realise that the world hasn’t ended, the tears haven’t dried and the story isn’t concluded. The rise is yet to be ensured to the beneficiaries of such a relation.
You couldn’t even have spiced a thought, a merry girl spotted of being a lantern on the chair, designated to stand tall, be known, be congratulated to be an oasis in the mid deserts, you didn’t even wanted to, you never ever desired, you never even frowned but accepted the vitality of perking around jerks, you were never gifted, you never ever deserved, nor I had a divine force to keep lifting you above the water, but still you are here, still meaninglessly drowning into the shanties of your rotten heart, your eyes sulked black in darkness, your voice embleming pristine tears out of sheer pain, incapability, unwillingness, lovelessness and infinite failure. A thread seems to exist about what’s written is not an ass’s job to execute, nor meaningless it should go if returned without a reception, I’m hitting back on earth through the power of these words to those morons whom you made yourselves. I really don’t need to, nor do I wish for an ultimate reputation from your side. I want you to be clearing the mist, erase a horrendous past, be prepared to the unfairness the world is yet to offer you and simply read this message.
So deep in rest am I today,
And I think it won’t be enough.
I won’t wake up until it’s night,
Or a morning that I so hate.
Clever these people are, knowing where they would go,
And will move their bodies in hustle.
Messages will be pinged, appointments be made,
Places will they travel, quite a spectacular show.
Love, hatred, riches will be on display,
Their learnt lessons will be applied.
Will they lose or will they win,
Their day will answer all their queries.
Stepping out of a gloom and entering another,
It’ll be easy to forget which one was worst.
Juggling a lot each time will be the thing,
Till their days won’t be over.
I’ll watch them go, there they will be,
I’ll secure my wants for another life to come.
I’ll go once, a shot in the air,
Never to reach back, never to fear.
Don’t you move, neither a bit,
It’s hot outside and it’ll hurt you bad.
So dear are you to me, chirping and eating together,
All life, all places, all eyes are you and me.
Pile up the stairs with poison,
On the floor should no concrete be left.
Hide all the blessings presbyter gave you,
Somewhere else should you be resting in peace.
That’s a moving car displaced in space,
Need not you care shall you be stationary.
Stay calm, silent and reverb in the past,
That’s what will drive you from all your misery.
They call you free, close-ended motionless body,
Let them know you think what they don’t.
And let them be mad about what you do,
Because work alone won’t fix what you want to.
Care not you what seasons come,
Hilarious they are, some falling leaves, ice on a mountain.
What careers there are, people to fall for,
Some dreaded corner of the world, some disguised serenity.
I go and you stay home,
Should you obey what these walls tell you to do,
These pathways leading you to bedrooms are heaven’s,
Keep them enchanted and let no complain come.
It’s a good place to be, a bed,
Cozy, safe, away from the world, closer to heart.
Leaving all the sense people make,
Leave it all on the pillow and blanket.
Pick up a screen and skim through places,
Pristine, supreme, rough or dry.
Oh! Wee-wee what’s she upto?
Another guy and another dress she’s draped in!
Look, hear and believe what they say,
Willing to continue as long are you.
Letting to lead you some pixels, some sound waves,
Coming from a device so dear to you.
Well, here it’s a cakewalk, easy and calm,
Breathing before you die is necessary as it is.
Yet use it for what you please, your every right to be,
All that it is after all what you wanted to be!
Hours go by and the room becomes alive,
Littering some wise words when the silence takes the side.
When did this happen, why would you do,
Does that really mean a world to you?
Not less than a day has elapsed, your mind is hungry,
Tired and relieved at the same time, it needed to dream.
A day or two to get a few more hours,
We’ll begin when there’s another new game lost.
What do you see in my eyes shining and sparkling,
Your hustling lore of fantasy, a myth?
Call me by my name, in your head juggling a piece,
Some lended work of art, splendid place to be.
Pick out a memory making you hurt your back,
And push it closer to me, flowing like an accusation.
Can’t you go ahead with all your fear to a sleep,
Thinking you don’t understand what are you upto?
Standing you are, saying a lot but listening none,
All the world see, it might be something like love.
Your feet held up at work with no movement,
Not coming for me, are you?
I wonder if I be here, where I might be,
Coming for you or just letting you go …
I’ve seen the clock struck the same hour every day. Saying it’s tickling all round the degrees and coming back and forth.
It creates a magical sound. Something like ‘Tik-Tok” or “Click-click”. It depicts the time is moving. Someone’s taking a birth, someone’s dying. Explain the process of getting closer to the happenings in the world every passing second, you can’t! We’re not supposed to.
So, even if it clocks not moving, time departure is not being depicted, or you’re careless enough to forget about time, time’s still on the move. Tik-Tok, Tik-Tok, can you hear it? No? Maybe you need to.
Tell me, how’s your life. That you can.
I reckon I could call that person a person; the body depict features of a humankind, a broad oval face, two hands, two legs etc. For now let’s call that person “He”.
He too possesses life. He is not on a stretcher with his wrists without pulse. He breaths, he walks, takes a nap, does exercise, goes places, converse with people etc. He seems to sane to be true sometimes. Is he?
Say to him, he’s too naive a person, he’ll smile. Fight with him, he’ll retaliate. Walk with him, he narrate stories. Shut him up, he’ll feel lonely.
You should ask by now, then what’s the problem in him. Why would if you meet him, you’ll definitely say, HE’S MINDLESS? One would be saying generally. Another would be in anger. Another would be in haste. And another out of choice. But none of your corollary would work in a case like this.
You see, there’s a problem. I may request you keep this secret in yourself. “He’s directionless.” This means he has nowhere to go, nobody to meet, and nothing to do. Is he really a human?
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The Writers' Age 