TIME : A COVERT DANCE

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  Time, is also a covert dance, in its rapidity history and minds vicissitude. History keeps records of brains, which creates materialistic or ideological basis. The beauty of history lays in its clash and struggle. Its stimulus is truth of tim...

 

Time, is also a covert dance, in its rapidity history and minds vicissitude. History keeps records of brains, which creates materialistic or ideological basis. The beauty of history lays in its clash and struggle. Its stimulus is truth of time. And the beauty of life lays in the lightness and delicacy of empty moment, in the feelinglessness. A thought ‘to be nothingness’ constitute existence. Teaches it to face the challenges of life. Trim the beauty of life. I was observing the empty sky through the eyes of internal mind. In the inner soul a forceful feeling of being was emerging by not being there. This sweet lightness of being has had captured me in a hilarious affliction.

I am helpless. In solitude such halos of reveries dance around me since many years, I am sleepless in this light. In this gloominess the goddess of monologue has awoken in my mind, to the extent that I am getting used to call myself in the darkness. Yes, in the lightlessness, I get some relief too, by monologue with my own shadow, in a bid of solacing. There is no veil between me and my shadow. Shall I reveal one more secret that I am used to sitting undressed in the darkness, so as to be able to see myself, to rediscover ambiguous? Is it true that unfathomable apprehension of loss makes personality ambiguous? What relation has identity crises with the sense of loss of being? I don’t have any authentic knowledge about anything. I am embattled at many fronts. Regret if I have any, it is that, “I have not even got aesthetic chords of my own being

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