LIFE - COLORES INFINITUM (52)
And then, he saw the light.
There was something moving
inside him. He told himself a cataclysmic change indeed it was bringing out the
devil in flashes.
Blocks were drifting. The
stillborn was already past its prime.
He felt he was vacated suddenly
but couldn’t find the free space inside when he needed to be into.
The style, the substance, and its
eerie similarity to the time when it was a dark run of circumstances, all were
telling him a tale told and foretold, throughout his life, if he could say it so,
if he could encapsulate the moments in the birth of that life of him, a life that
was somehow a sordid tale of misunderstanding, manipulation, betrayal and
stabbing.
He was left bruised, tormented,
traumatized.
Times were shifting. Acting
desperately, he tried to sift through the mess he was thrown into to make sense
of what was happening, why it was happening.
His efforts, his commitment to
the continuity, his sincerity to the cause, his innocence to the identities, his
conscience for the individualities, every person of him was so brutally traded
off, so mercilessly killed, as if he had no identity, as if he never had an
existence.
And he lived for his identity
only. And he lived for making a meaningful existence of him only.
And he was left bleeding, his
soul manipulated, compromised and hurt.
The devil had the chance to take
him over, to do with him all he had not been able to do. And his mischievousness
came with
The darkness ran deep, going well
into the past. The dreadful bonhomie of the evil spirit was singing in fusion
with the voice of his detractor.
A cataclysmic change imposed on
him, forced on his identity. He was staring at the odds of annihilation of his soul.
He was thus calling for the
survivor in him desperately.
©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey - http://severallyalone.blogspot.com/
