Skip to main content

Sound of Voices I

Image
By
I stopped searching for the parochial extensions of my existence. Like every youth, burning inside and blinded by definitions or interpretations I fought well like Don Quixote raging a war towards the shadows of existence and vanity. A paradox disembarked on the shores of my constructive paradigms and horizons of freethinking. Like a free bird, soaring in the endless azure sky, I trumpeted shadows of thoughts, which were repressed, subsided, othered, and muted by the elite, socialized, civilized, classed reverberations of social acceptance and code of existence in a society living in vanity. Freethinking was not free. It was unconsciously dragged unto an undefined school of thought that never existed in any frameworks of existing or non-existing theories and philosophies. I was a paradox within freethinking. It made me an aesthetic and cognitive anarchist I am now.
Celebration of soul transcended the limitations of somatic existence. Expectations were removed from the realm of my life as I travelled further. I met people or they just occurred to me, total strangers from nowhere became the fellow travelers. I was just occurring or things were just occurring to nonbeings of mine for beings. Everything felt feather-like and floated on air like a vessel on serene mighty waters. Turbulences and chaos mattered nothing, but begot beauty and happiness. I began to laugh at myself and wondered over the mighty universe I was consisting of. Wow! The whole body of mine sensationalized over the thought of that magnificent existence and being. Self-libido or narcissism fetched the abundant possibilities and potentialities of existence. I became everyone while being a single being. The narcissist of mine taught me to love myself first, see myself first, treat myself first, celebrate myself first and thus my Narcissus established my Self within me over the Other.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Utopia in Heaven

By
Fractions of ambivalence intervened with facts confuse me. What sort of memory should I resort to? What sort of woods should I head to? Moreover, what sort of thought I should entertain? serenity compromised with the rage still ravish me, for the flight unto the firmament where the manipulated thoughts have placed both the hell and heaven, though both of them begin with 'H', I see two parallel lines running towards uncertainty. However, somewhere in between I also see a line connecting them! Yeah, both Hell and Heaven are connected- ('H' with a '-'). I dream of a thought where both hell and heaven live in harmony and peace. What a beautiful thing to remember! Both constructive Satan and God share their love, thoughts, and goodwill in peace and co-operation! I think it’s happening right there in my crazy thoughts. off topic - What is love? Love is beyond definition and it transcends all barriers and definition. Once a question was asked to me on l...
2 comments
Read more

Yellow Butterflies

By
She had just celebrated her hundredth birthday. A hundred years. The number fascinated me more than the life it contained. I looked at her and thought, What a blessing. Imagine living for a century. At that age, I still measured life in quantity. I had not yet learned that years accumulate differently from meaning. She rarely spoke. The world had slowly withdrawn from her senses. Food no longer delighted her. Conversations dissolved before reaching her. The pleasures that once animated her existence had become distant rumours from another life. She had possessed almost everything one could desire—a loving husband, a beautiful home, security, comfort, longevity. By every conventional measure, she had won. Yet old age is a peculiar thief. It does not steal all at once. It removes things patiently, one by one, until only a few fragments remain. For Anne, only three things survived the wreckage. Her husband. Her home. And the longing to return. Every day she asked the same questions. ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Ruth: The Epilogue

By
"But..."  I was being dragged by the ebb of time into the abyss. On the shores, beneath the mountains, blue waters lulled my feet. I was looking at the completion of my life as she was calling me to join the tides.  The gravity of the past pulled me into the quantum architecture of multiple dimensions of life. I fell into the realms where I tricked my past to stay engaged. My present is an analogy of my past. The energy I created, then, in the quantum architecture transformed into an autonomous being of intelligence. I was unable to stop it from growing into a being. They said, "Quantum corresponds to each other and can transfer information to each other, no matter of space or time." Her lips quivered, and her feelings clouded her mind as she appeared like a glitch in time. Her words echoed through the ages, " We should remain ignorant of each other like we used to be in the past. I will pretend that I never knew you." P.S: Spenser read from his book, ...
Post a Comment
Read more