Desire!

Scribbling:

“Sitting by the roof watching the evening drench itself in a little drizzling, waving through strong winds after a rather hot summer day, appears to be similar to experience of self. Of days when things go by like clock on the wall, for it keeps on moving changing time, and prospects yet remaining un-noticed till the color of sky shows any sign of change. For here the sky must be the background where our thoughts inhabit and wander around, mostly in pieces but then in some evenings like this, gather around and starts to pour themselves upon us. I feel too compelled to lie down, closing my eyes, keeping my mouths open to taste those droplets that might be carrying a lifetime of words among them. And then I become greedy and wish to be a shell in the deep of oceans, awaiting a drop of rain to fall in its cocoon to form a pearl, in this case I should think of poetry. Could this be fulfilled, I wonder.

And then amidst feelings to lay down a banyan tree, by a lively river, or a silent lake, or a narrow stream passing by, while it drizzles in reality upon concrete floor, and with a force enough o break the imaginative mind as well vague looks scanning through the settings of this unexpected evening, as one does when words appear out of the blue, one realizes suddenly of reality being harsh yet imaginations being an alternative that provides for inhabitation amidst our chorus of days that passes by just like that. I think of those hills and woods getting alive during these drizzling, birds eager to sing sweeter, flowers to appear much romantic while sky keeps changing its colors from blue to grey to red.

Evening slowly starts to turn darker, not in melancholy but in sheer delight, as if all prepared to embrace the night holding onto its make-ups which the clouds and rain has laid upon it carefully, I see sky a little sad for it would be hard for anyone to recognize and to witness its colors yet holding onto a prospect of new delight in having stars around to sing and dance with as they would twinkle and sprinkle themselves, as I find myself holding a candle flickering in wind coming through windows expecting it to show me what lies beyond those blank sheets of paper laying in front of me upon table. I go out with candle to the roof and hold it high and compare it with the dimly lit sky, both are burning slowly, yet bringing words out of dark veil of night, as I watch them in delight and seek to embrace them, to lay down and sleep in their bosom, feeling them over self with utmost passion as one learns to make first love.”