Some scrawls and scribblings wander off my page again..

By the window a cradle rocks to the moon shining outside. A flesh, pink and wrinkled- a new born sleeps cushioned inside, oblivious to the vicious world around. Pages will turn, many suns will rise and fall, and moon will covers its countless journeys from crescent to full. Another unpredictable journey would take it from cradle to coffin. From on to the inside of the earth, the mass of body would embrace itself with tiny grains of earth…

Regressed tears gave way to the sparkling film covering the hazel of the eye. Her heart played a different rhythm in her chest, she could feel it throbbing impatiently. Outside the moon floated in the velvety sky like a fish in vast oceans. Inside she sat, consumed by the surrounding vacuum.
Somewhere across the waters, a different tune was being played. Some different acts being performed, a different life being lived, in total oblivion to the regressed tears.
She woke up with a sudden jerk, lost her balance and almost fell off the bed. Again. This dream had been haunting her with a strange continuity. A girl, tears, lonely. what could that mean? With so many pending chores, appointments to catch up with, she tossed away the bothering thought of the recurring dream..
It meant nothing. what could a static dream such as that mean anything significant; nothing ever happened to the girl she had dreams of..all she did was sit there and be amused by her own tears?
She was was not a dream…sometimes life plays strange tricks on us.

to be continued forever….

Dark brown eyes, deep in their sockets sit on a broken bench under a thick trunk, towering tree. The sun shines through the branches and a flock of bird flies off to their destiny. Crisp winter leaves fall from a wise tree adjacent to a row of green benches. A foundation without water stands anciently in the center of the piece of lawn. A winter wind blows past the quietly occupied bench and whispers to the tiny specks of dust, as they too take their flight. The eyes static and deep, aware of the secrets being whispered sits there and waits..


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s