Confessions of a flier

I know how to fold and join these estranged dendrites perhaps to launch a folded euphemism of euphoria or liberation. Though I wont call it harsh subjugation of my nature or destiny. All my life, I have known and loved one thing…my wings..my flight..

Yes, I am a flier.. I have seen plateaus and mountains..high rise…low rise.. I do understand the nature of air , even their smell. The language of compression and depression..As I have always loved to fly…

It was not easy in the beginning to fold and flap..to push hard and suggest..But it was that feeling..A feeling of every particle putting their truest form of elemental love inside your body and forcing the life out of an invisible sphere.. causing not to see but feel…feel the air..

Come to think about it. Every syllable and every organism as such, has revolved around this one singular feeling which bifurcates you… Isn’t it platonic?..perhaps it is.. though attached with physical gesture yet so platonic in nature are these feelings.

With time my tool of desirous action withered..But the joy of heightened carousal acted as seductress. It was monogamist lust. Honest to a single soul yet passionate.

Today I can just move around slowly with those wings. I can’t fly..My wings have ceased to exist. My flock tells me it’s the nature’s law.. Axiom..

Whatever Thou Giveth Out Onto To Others, Will Come Back To Thee

What if, I don’t agree. What if, I call it the biggest blasphemy. I was born to fly. It’s the truest form of love. It’s not an attachment or affection or infatuation or stubbornness. It is called existence.  I am what the movement of air is. and I can’t see my love but feel it. Though it does cause my heart to beat faster. It is not the cause.. It’s the evidence of its existence. Evidence!

My wings are the evidence of my flights. I think, therefore I am and I would and hence I can!

I can see the sun is shining brighter today. It’s been long time it has not gleamed in such an artistic fashion. My satirical existence has left a note on the bewildered chimera..I saw..errr..no I felt my body amalgamating with my mind.. and I was flying!

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One thought on “Confessions of a flier

  1. compact, neat, crisp. an enjoyable read.
    reminded me of Richard Bach and Douglas Adams. Jonathan livingston sea-gull n the hitchhiker’s guide to galaxy to be precise.
    keep up the good work.
    u r goooood.

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