I have these little moments of pure un-adulterated joy in sensing the vastness of youth and carelessness. Like the balloons at a child’s birthday party, waiting to be put up behind the decorations and the people strolling around. The balloon itself is oblivious of the many stories that each person entails, and carries within him. A million sorrows and a million-fold dejection. A few thousand achievements and then some more personal contentment. Where does the line cross the circle of life and understanding? Where does the emotion in a balloon that flies away, in tangent to the tradition, come? How do little voices cease to exist as merry tunes of the birthday song, and transform into haunting tales of the age we’ve seen.
Sometimes, I need to be a balloon again. I want to un-feel a lot of things, a lot of things need to be un-done. A plethora of incidences need to be erased from my memory. And a number of people need to travel back in time. Age a little less dramatically, and offer a little mellowed catharsis. Drown in a little shallow water, and cry a little lesser tears. Breach a little lesser laws, and stampede on my emotions, a little lesser. Where we gain a more horrendous reality, we also need a little flowery Utopia. Because in things we have meant to vanish ourselves in, we need to augment them a little. For in memories of us, in places we live, in tales we concoct, in dreams we see: There is a little lesser drama, in times I am destined to feel nothing.
To what grandiose moment, do I owe this little epiphany?
Balloons
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| Source: Here |
Yet another spark, that flew in directions a-plenty
Yet another promise, that was broken in places where I have dwelt
My heart has given way to a lot more emotion
Than I would want it to perceive
In this spacious denial of the notions and my reverie
Have I begun to understand you, or have you spoken to me?
Do I fly off the plastic dreams?
Or do I hold onto the many hearts I bleed
Where this blood has proferred into a valley of feelings
And where your conscience is all but a mesh of perception
Where the bonds of provocative entitlement mean nothing
And where I sense nothing, and everything
Places like these, and days like this
All I want to know is:
I will look ahead, and never look back.
Be a balloon, and fly away soon
(27th February, 2012)
Syndicated from: Amna’s Blog
Thank.you.God.
