You know when it curbs me?
Of course, I feel it.
I feel it for you too.
You are no exception.
I am either.
I hate you sometimes.
And you know what,
It breeds when you are not around.
I don’t know what made you
Surmount your presence,
There around me,
Most of the times,
When it all started.
It has an unnoticeable existence,
Time and again,
That I cannot feel it differently,
As those movies and those stories extrapolate,
I don’t feel anything different,
It’s all just the same.
But I do feel something.
I feel a chamber around me,
That cuts me from the chaos of my life,
That lands me up in a small space,
Where I can be,
Without considering the rest of the world.
That space which is now an addiction.
And I will blame no one, but you.
I didn’t face the moments of discontent earlier.
Although, I won’t deny any prior encounters,
But this reason is new.
And it took me long to figure out,
One can never have those numbing points,
Discovered all by oneself,
Weakness is a better word,
But you are not my weakness.
You have always existed as my strength,
But, then why is this subsistence,
That is troubling me out.
What is the strange silence,
That covers me up.
Why I land myself in thinking,
What has happened and
What will now?
Why I am gaping and gazing still,
For some moments,
Till someone figures that out.
That sounds weird,
In fact, it is,
The thing is, it took me so long,
To get hold of that weirdness.
Was I the same?
Before few years,
Did I feel the same urge
To be in that small space of yours?
I never knew,
That it ever existed,
Was it better than what it is now?
That dilemma curtails me all the time.
What could have happened
Or how could have been the world now?
Anyway, who am I, when,
Shakespeare himself suffered,
While choosing to be or not to be,
So did the Frost in another way,
Not seeing the other side of the woods,
Where he would have traveled if he had chosen differently.
Well, it could not be changed,
But the matter is all about hatred.
Cut it off, as it is inevitable.
I cannot stop hating you,
For coming and being a part of the journey,
That I was accustomed to traveling alone.
But you know,
I loved you for the same reason.
Ain’t it worse when it works on extremities?
You know me enough,
I have always loved to play in extreme lines.
So, we will now.
The small gate,
A swing to fling,
That’s all makes her place,
Her owned cage.
She has got used to it since she was a little birdie,
She has started loving it now,
Spending each passing day,
In a fixed routine.
Fluttering her wings inside the cage,
Eating those seeds and then,
Jumping in those small puddles of water,
Which often got filled in the curves of the base.
She has always been a frolicking soul,
Calmness, and composure,
She doesn’t know how these are defined.
However, she knows how to spell ferocity,
She is never a soul to be chained,
To be bound to a single place.
She has that urge,
Of playing with the far spread clouds.
She has the whim,
Of dangling the twigs
Make her music through those rumbling sounds.
What she wanted is to own is that place in the far off sky,
Above those equally ferocious clouds.
She has always known that she could tame them.
Spending each day inside those limiting bars,
Her curiosity trailed towards the higher slope.
With days passing she used to think of the parallel world,
Where the boundaries cease to exist,
Where your world has no pain but glee.
One day she planned and left for a stroll,
Peeking outside that rails of hers,
She got out somehow and flew.
She flew through the heights,
Exploring paths and trails,
Embellishing it all with her music,
She has never thought she could fly that high,
She could cry too loud with her spirits,
And get so near towards the end of the sky.
She flew over the fields,
She flew over the sea,
She took rest near the creek,
Sometimes near the beach.
She picked food from varied places
And savored the delicacies.
What she loved is the vividness of the cultures around,
The age old beliefs,
And those new sounds.
She met few companions,
Who shared with her their stories,
She wrote that in her memory,
And kept their images imprinted on her temples.
She has always believed that,
People often meet in journey multiple times.
As when they are introduced to you,
It’s the preamble to the story that is yet to be derived.
She knew she has to return to the cage again,
As she could not leave her owners in grief,
But she took it all,
Lived it all,
As a respite in brief.