Ruth: The Epilogue

"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, "Which, at the appointed tide, each one did make his bride," as the universe shifted and arranged new patterns for me.

I loved Ruth in every particle of the universe. I wanted to forget everything, but nothing had gone with the ebb of time. Somewhere inside me, the marks caused by her smile were still bleeding, refusing to dry up. But still, I wondered, how did she happen to me? Where did she come from? What made me love her like that?"

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Hindolam: M₁

At every corner, she glimpsed him. Through the mist, she saw his figure, looking at her, the love in his eyes never fading. She tightened her grip on 'his' hand, her love, and glanced back. Sometimes she wonders, was it true? What he believed in. Whether she was his princess. But, she lost that moment. And she lived in her present, and the past, a mirage. Nothing could change her love for 'him'. She looked into 'his' eyes and all her inhibitions disappeared. She didn't hear the soft crunch of leaves behind her. She was too occupied with her love, her beliefs, with 'him'. She didn't see him steal glances at her. And sometimes, he lost her again, in the mist, in the blur, in the obscurity. But he always found her, for his love for her burned in his heart, a bright flame. She gave him the key to his freedom, but he flung it away. He chose his way of life, he wanted to chase her forever. He would never give up. His incessant pursuit fascinated her, ...

An Utopian Halleluah

I've undergone a transformation beyond my wildest imaginings. There comes a point in everyone's life where letting go becomes a necessity for forward movement. Losing something seems inherent to gaining something else—some do it by choice, while time enforces it on others. In my case, the catalyst was the cat's curiosity. Though time played its part, comprehending and visualizing the entirety of my 'glorious past' remains a struggle. While I acknowledge its irretrievability, I occasionally entertain fantastical notions of time reversal in the quantum realm. There's solace in sipping coffee on the beach, the waves' soothing cadence offering a picturesque recapitulation of time, patterns in space, and gravity's pained dance. That marked the end of one era and the commencement of another. Ruth, the ROOH, my muse and the architect of my existence—credit for all that I became and everything I did not, goes to her timeline interwoven with mine. She sculpted ...

The Awkward Silence of the Enchanting Chasm

“Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Sibylla ti theleis; respondebat illa: apothanein thelo.” Have I forgotten you? I don't like the way you faded into oblivion. Your glorious absence marveled at the absurdities of my life. Even the last remnants of your weird sight and smile create a whirlpool of the past and a hurricane of madness deep in the abyss of my conscience. Everywhere, in every form and matter, I see your dust. I teach myself to forget you and move ahead. The chaos of your story in mine is the absence of your existence in time-space. I weave each and every layer of your story so that I can tell my son, one day, how I survived on my own. I wonder whether it was your light or the shadow I painted, mostly in Prussian blue. They will hear the echoes of the deep enchanting chasm on my chest. I keep it echoing on my chest, so that I might tell my son on the shores of infinity that I had a story to tell.

The Ballads of Gravity

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