I can feel it all. I can see the anguish of the star, the pale countenance of the moon and how these expressions don’t level up with his calling. He is a megalomaniac. The way these stars and the moon glance, hiding behind those rusty clouds, is immensely playful. But some things just seem beautiful, they just have an astounding effect on us in which the fraud becomes bleak. The sky looks beautiful and it is as a whole calling him.
But what about his wishes and his desires? What if he doesn’t belong to the sky contaminated with ruthless stars and a pretentious moon?
What he wants is not something that this sky holds. The level of imagination to be put under the interpretation of his expectations was too much. But I did that with utter dedication and gave my all to it. The impossible, in the process was also made possible. I understood pretty well that his desires are above the sky. It’s above the cosmic. Above it.
He leaves all the grudge filled birds behind serenely. These birds, if looked at closely had an expression of superficiality which was not visible to the commoners but it was visible to him even from far, far away. I found him the most handsome man of the lot. His power of
understanding is way ahead of mine when it comes to flying high in the sky and understanding its bad influence. He is much experienced. But what I am distressed about is that I comprehend the ambition in him, I know the burning fire in him. The only thought incomprehensible is that, why does this connection become gloomy? It seems pretentious at times; real most of the time and this kind of hold becomes devoid of liveliness. I am closely connected to his mind and the thoughts which revolve in the membranes present there. It becomes unbelievable to me when i sit back, relax (ironically) and reflect upon the instances when i had to try and beg for comprehension, when i was left with no option but to acquiesce to his thinking and agree, when i was in tears for being most ardently misunderstood.
He is the most lively and humble person, the most appealing person and our knot is very beautifully tied.
The knot is tied very tightly, but is it too tight to behold the pain and anguish and self? Tight, maybe because of the anguish and not too tight maybe because of the love.
These emotions are not mere emotions, but a serious contemplation and a deterioration of a belief in oneself, in one’s ability to be emotionally stable. As a victim of this, I can help myself only in picking up the reflection of the memories and instances I have grabbed by now. I can only write and make my thoughts provoke the paper or the reader who will find his own story embedded in it.
The comprehensiveness in me divulges into an in-depth ocean of destitute. This lack becomes so inherent and so heart throbbing that it emerges from it a Gothic atmosphere for me. The spectral powers around make me gain more and more pessimism. The question repeats itself several times.
If I can comprehend him, if I can see the hidden waves of high authority in him, why can’t he? Is it so impossible? Or is it in the playful characteristic of this man which makes him unable to understand me and delve into the profundity of my consciousness?