Woods that spoke

We walked on in woods that spoke,

Of lost dreams and shattered hopes,

In the rain of the last light of a dying sky,

Forever judged by silent eyes,

And yet when we slept, we marched on,

The purpose colored in vermilion,

And still we gave our eyes to see,

A glimpse of our Utopian insanity,

Where every success is steeped in loss,

The singular bite of a million faults,

The future cried a mother's sigh,

As still-born, we all arrived,

But yet we listen in the heat of anticipation,

For the breath of our own salvation,

And in yearning all faces turn to behold,

The silent bell, resplendent in gold,

But hark, this bell does not ring,

And tonight, no Myna sings,

For here and now we begin to walk,

And yet another day is lost in thought,

Eternally judged and found wanting,

Our backs are turned to the world taunting,

And we find our way into an absolute truth,

When you live for someone, your life bears fruit...

And time stood still

Every now and then, we stop as the world speeds on by. Through the incomprehensible blur of the constant landscape and the streaks left behind by the ghosts of memories, we slow down and breathe. In that moment, clarity becomes a beacon we cannot ignore, and through the gray haze of confusion, the future begins to form.

I wish we knew how to switch off our "Auto-Pilot" feature. We tend to become comfortable, averse to risk, rigid in mind and broken in spirit and we forget that sometimes risk becomes a key to a lock that we had forgotten about. How can we justify our complacence in a world where wonders never cease? But then we keep marching on, like mindless drones to the sound of a piper whose pipes were broken a long time ago. The music that leads us on is abhorrent to our ears, but the comfort we gain from numbers advises us to forgo the cacophony and believe in the merits of conformance. Through rain and hail and smiles and pain, we march on while always losing something intrinsic and beautiful along the way.

I was looking through the Facebook profile of one of my school-time buddies. He's married to the love of his life, and now with a child to herald a future of promise. Surrounded by friends and family. The best part about his profile was that he took a picture of every moment of his life. I was going through his albums, and it left me thinking about how blessed his life is. The pictures bound me to the screen, each picture another chapter in his story, rather their story. And it made me smile a little. Simultaneously, it also made regret how I've never wanted to be in photos.

40 years from now, I would have almost nothing to remind me of how much I've lived. I hope my mind will hold these memories in a chest which I will dust off then. Though I might have seen quite a bit of the world, I do not keep souvenirs. I maintain that I will return whenever I want to. But there are things which I want to cherish and there are times which I can never return to, and these are the hardest currency of all. For having gained it, I would never trade it - but I never accept it in the first place. Recently, I took a chance on something. The chance I took was something so out of character for me, I have a hard time believing it myself. But that chance led to something incredible. My days have grown brighter and my life feels rich. I am lost without words for I really want to describe in words the sheer freedom of leaping off a cliff and learning that we all have wings. We ride on starlight, and sleep on the moon. Our words melt and flow for now we no longer need to speak, because we already know. In being we are all we will be, absolute and pristine we shine. And the genesis of this post, the picture of a man and his son, the conversation of expectation and the response of unmitigated joy and pride was conducted in a picture, without a single word visible and without a single motion comprehensible...and time stood still.