Skip to main content

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 me into a human; a void preceded her influence. It was then she evolved, seamlessly integrating into my life. I've borne witness to life's grandeur and the soul's vibrancy, singing Utopian hallelujahs to the untold stories. The transformation is a constant wonder—Ruth has made a poet out of me. She pervades every form and matter; I discern no patterns but the heavenly one. Ah, such a delicate soul. The process was gradual, taking years for me to fall in love with her. I nurtured thoughts in time and space for eternity; no one could love her as I do.
In her absence, every part of me filled with her essence, suffocating my anarchic self. She has become a continuation of everything I hold dear.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dead and Buried

We all leave something behind—not by accident, but for a reason we don’t fully understand. As though some cosmic law silently demands it of us. And we obey, unknowingly, yet unfailingly. We, fragile creatures, live not just to exist, but to leave traces of that existence—marks etched in time, invisible perhaps, but undeniably real. We come into this world incomplete, having left a piece of ourselves elsewhere. When we first take the shape of a foetus in the womb, something essential is set aside. And when we die, we don’t simply vanish; we begin a journey back—to retrieve what was once ours, what we unknowingly surrendered. But even in that act of return, we leave more behind. Our lives are full of quiet departures. A moment. A glance. A word. Our love lingers. Our memories settle into the corners of rooms. Our shadows remain stretched across places we’ve passed through. Our presence clings to people in subtle, haunting ways. Sometimes we leave behind dreams never fulfilled, words nev...

Wake me up...

Wake me up when December bells. until then, let me sleep in thy... 

Unknowing

I choose the heart of darkness — not in despair, but in reverence — to immerse myself in its monstrous chaos, the womb from which all beginnings bleed into existence. I do not flee the shadows; I invite them. I slow the light, restrain it, keep it from intruding too close—because some truths are born only where light hesitates.  I sense what is coming. The slow unravelling of the world. A moment when day and night lose their boundaries and collapse into a single breath. When direction dissolves and humanity forgets where it stands. Time loosens its grip. Space forgets its shape.  In that hour, man will begin to speak languages he has never learned, utter sounds older than memory itself. He will see beyond the limits of his eyes, hear frequencies never meant for human ears. Perception will stretch, fracture, expand—until meaning itself trembles.  And in that unsettling clarity, where fear and wonder merge, the truth will no longer hide. It will rise—not in light, but in t...