Words…(II)

 Follow Up–>WORDS…(I)

He brings the diary near to him. Lying are some scrambled words with vivid images and sketches around the corner. He smells what has been lying in those pages. The intoxicating smell of chemical is still so fresh; they were breathing life on the papyrus earth forming ‘blue’ algae. Blue a mocking color. Juxtaposing the pain, the sadness, the euphoria, the peace all at one place. Blue is the color of painted sky and blue is the color which we kill them in our eyes. The variegated blue is saying something. Like a morning hymn. He brings the diary closer to himself and reads in his mind those words

 

“I shake my arms to contact the living

Pull my vibes in the soul, I see it coming

What gets spilled is just destiny

The love of hands with pipe of fantasy

Nectar of seamless beauty

Sucked by vexed fraternity

 

The wish, the dream and standing emotion

Euphoria, curses and moving ovation

Ephemeron structures of crispy relation

Banal thoughts prevising scion

Somewhere I live in the shades of sion

 

Words are scintilla, Scintillating thy way

An innocent smile of pray

An expression of life in cay

The glass of inverted cure’s view

Genesis of my dreams means, as they say

You are in me, May be I am you”

 

Cheeks have a way. They make a mark of everything be it tears, or a harsh clap, or tickling tap. The tears from his eyes marking those inane callous on his cheeks. Using his hand he shoves them away. He pulls out a blue pen from his pocket; the pen bores an initial of the lost one. Its funny how these initials make there way in the trivial stuff. Everything moves but they remain. He scribbles something below these words.

 

“Words are vicious, vicious thy way

Dance of necromancy, facile I fall prey

They give all and they take away…

Specious you are, the breeze through the pore

Now shut is my eyes, to see no more…”

 

He tears this paper from the diary and throws the diary with full force in the raging sea.

With paper in his pocket he starts walking towards the sea. He feels nothing. It felt as the sea has found a long lost brother, hugging him and embracing him so tightly that even he tries to push and flaps his hand, they didn’t let him go. A silence begins to take shape in the corners of distant canoe. He hears nothing. he feels nothing. He fears nothing…

A beep…followed by sound of hushed voices can be heard. A vision or illusion was fighting back to spirit. Near the zombie is kept a calendar which has paced to 3 months. He wakes up appalled .The sound of footsteps and the sirens make him realize the promise has not been fulfilled. The infuriated mind blames itself, from the creaky doors of dejavu a soul was still lurking. He still remembered the deed. He reaches swiftly to his pocket though the pain of needle was excruciating plucking his veins. He takes out the paper. The embrace did try to obviate the letters, but it seems the letters have given a hard fight. The paper seems to be wiped off what is written but still some words were smeared and alive. A silent cry passed through his heart out of emancipation.

The left words between the lines read…

“life

                        means

                                                more…”