Sunday, November 27, 2022

4096 : Crash into me

It's 445am on a Sunday morning. I am at the most peace this life offers me. Writing, reading and sipping coffee.

The silence of the morning calms me down. I love the space, the shadows and the seamless shine. There is nothing to do, nowhere to go. 

My brain is humming - "you got your ball, you got your chains, tied to me tight, tie me up again...who's got the claws into you my friend, into your heart I will beat again.", incessantly. The poet in me is in a candy store.

Flicking through some unbelievable photographs from yesterday, it occurs to me that still life is the most incorrigible liar. Yet, it elevates. It lies, because it never ever tells the entire story. And it uplifts because, in that stolen moment, we still found our happiness. Sometimes with a friend, other times a looming piece of this lovely planet of ours, with a song that drums along like a dream.

As I flick through, I am reminded of how fleeting happiness is. If we cannot appropriate it, it is gone. Like a firefly - here now, gone in a few seconds. (You float like a feather, in a beautiful world!!). 

God says, "Ephemeral. I created the word to describe the human condition around joy."

Conversely yet, we all want to repair our futures. My limited pragmatism teaches me - that there is no tomorrow. Never was, and never will be. Tomorrow is a construct to offer a false hope.  An elaborate fiction, that breaks down, the nth time you read it. 

The contradiction called I come. Murakami's recent book - on the vocation of being a writer, haunts my thoughts. I love the book so much. It takes me on flights of imagination, which are not from the now. How do you imagine if there is no future? Reminds me of that brilliant line "Its like rain on your wedding day....its a free ride when you have already paid.".

Speaking of free rides - you caught the train, left me all alone. Make my Sunday better. Come along - Crash into me.

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1 comment:

Saswat said...

"Tomorrow is a construct to offer a false hope. An elaborate fiction, that breaks down, the nth time you read it. " This line hit me really hard. Truth without the caramel.