Struggle for Existence

Gone - flitted away,
taken the stars from the night and the sun
from the day!
Gone, and a cloud in my heart.

There is something not so right with me these days, incalculable times I tried to pen down my thoughts, but I found agonizingly , that thoughts which used to bother me, which used to act like silent killer in my brain, which used to be the feed for my soul, had been evaporated. What’s wrong with me, where are my mind boggling thoughts, where they have gone suddenly, I cursed myself, doubted myself and punished myself, thinking, that my potential of writing is suddenly being snatched from me. Even I questioned myself, what’s the mistake I have done, why these small reasons of contentment of mine and the space where I can find myself, where I can breathe peacefully has been seized from me ? The thoughts which used to bother me, which wanted to erupt out of my mind have left me alone. Why I cannot face myself these days?? Why there is a feeling of incompleteness surrounds me? There are thoughts but they are not bold enough to stimulate me for expressing myself, the thoughts are scattered. I fear this day of loneliness, my days of solitude never left me completely alone but now it seems ,I am struggling for my existence, as if I am grasping for my breath, as if my identity is weakening. Where are those unheard words which you have given me, where are those oaths which have made together? Where my heart will find a refuge when the world will be condemning me?

May be my journey towards certainty framing my mind in a way where I am leaving behind my vibrant thoughts which shaped me up as a human being. May be I am being selfish enough to deviate my path from yours, it’s not you, it’s me who is parting away from you. I have always mentioned, my existence is enough evidence of your presence. Though a soul can have various parts still they will be connected with a single chord forever, the parts can be scattered but they will be awakened by a single touch.

It’s the inefficiency as a writer that I cannot write for everyone, so I find a handful of readers, but writing comes from my heart, it’s the melody of my soul. How can I mold my soul to think something which I cannot think, how can I mutilate my soul and try to tune it in as any algebraic formulae? My heart listens to no one and when I ignore its call I create a disaster and when I listen to it then I write, then I sing then I walk along to the path of eternity. My apologies to those who think my articles are like burning whip, I cannot help but to execute myself if I were to transfigure my soul.