The paining trail…

An empty slate, desiring words, to put meaning within the random orchestrated letters. The rules, no rules, can ever be implemented when stating ornaments of empathy. The junction where you start to care and where you know you actually do has a familiar yet strange vibe to it.  A certain segmented truth is now the real truth. You can very well acquire a fondness, but this fondness can only be expected to last if it clears a due. The due that is kept aside for just me to fulfill.

The chandeliers of joy were kept aside; I enter the room & I see a tide. A tide that stops at nothing, and leaves something for me to ponder on.  To pick up the salt-ridden pieces and to think back on the choices I have made. I think, yet unable to pick mistakes, I try, I fail and I start again. Where was I wrong? Whom did I foul? what made my life so shredded that I can no longer glue back the pieces together.

Though I painted a serene art, a picture that had everything, I gave it time, I nurtured it with love and I seasoned it with care. Unwavering at times of peril & staunched where vulnerable, I made sound choices. But it found, only to flounder and dissolve at first sight of woe. An unfamiliar assemblage, spooring judgment. Incompetent and rustic, yet competent & weighty, the crowd with loathing looks and stating eyes, piercing into my soul. Bustling my peace, unsettling my pastoral entity.

It’s just the ‘coarse’ & ‘paining’ trail, I walk. I walk for unanimity, I walk to learn, I walk to find the moment I started walking for…

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