With the mighty sun’s rays,
penetrating the clear sky,
in an energetic mood, we decided
upon a game of basketball.
The game, its rules,
the team, their orders,
all set upon,
Shoot, fouls, steals, free throws!
the heat turned upon everyone’s mind,
and played as we did,
we ourselves ricocheted with the basketball.
And soon dear chaos,
tongued through the order,
a stable instability,
a familiar unfamiliarity.
And now as I stood aside,
I shuddered, quivered,
at the sight so grotesque,
Ever woke up one morning and realized that there was no true meaning of your life, no real purpose and envisioned a long toilful, lonely journey into the future dragging your feet ahead with much difficulty? When every day became a cage stopping you from flying and every second became an impatient longing? When words spewed from the lips when they weren’t meant to be, when every circumstance made you hold your head in ire and tear your hair apart? When time and space distorted and you didn’t know what was what, when was when, who was who and why was why? When your own emotions drowned you, dragged you into the quicksand, and no one was there to hold your hand and pull you out? Were emotions meant to do this? Were they meant to give us the entire feeling of living a life or the entire feeling of living a death? The life becomes a medley of questions; unanswerable and continually reducing you to dust. But the biggest question stands – do they need an answer?
A vision of transience befell his damp eyes as he strolled beside the sea, his feet immersed in cool, comfortable sand and washed by waves of water, crashing and retreating unequivocally, almost mechanically. The harsh, rough noise of the waves was pleasant to his eyes, which had seen so much before, and now wanted to see little else. His mind was a cocktail of emotions, and the sea a pacifying god, becalming the ever-so-violent tsunamis of his mind. His reason of coming here was to get back any tiny semblance of his childhood back, of innocence that was no more, of what there was before he won glory and beauty and eventually lost it all. If it came back, he’d hold on to it with all his might, like a little child his mother, and never let it go…..
Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter. Seasons of earth. Phases of life. Did it ever seem, that the tree of winter, almost dead, would blossom back to life, as spring came? It didn’t. It was dead, almost dead, with its leaves gently leaving its body in autumn, and the silence of freezing death looming all around it in winters. But it didn’t give up. It stood there, amidst the freezing cold, patiently. Waiting; hoping; for spring. No one could tell that it had been once full of beautiful green leaves, bearing colorful flowers, and fruits, and that it would be once again. But “if Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?” The winter was gone, a part of the cycle, and nothing else. Spring came. The dormancy, the uncertainty was gone, and the tree was brimming with life – leaves rustling, birds chirping, flowers galore, the sweet noises. The bright summer. But would the winter never come? It would. Time would ensure that. But the tree would stand, and bear it all, when it comes.
So sometimes everything might seem dark, dead, and all the negatives. But there always lies spring at the end of this winter, light at the end of the tunnel, dawn at the end of this darkness, happiness and peace at the end of the tiring journey. But it’s up to you. Patiently, wait. Hope. Be strong. Never lose faith. Time will work its wonders. Darkness will end. Life will bestow you the glory. It’s up to you, whether you’re willing to believe and not give up.
And smile, amidst it all.