I
have looked up at the stars with longing in my eyes. Even with envy at times…
wishing I could possess that glow in my heart… that infinity in my reach… For
what does a restless mind crave but recognition. And what does a dying soul
need but peace. That blazing light in the heart…
The glimmering hope of darkest sky
O’ stars I wish I still could fly…
Like I soared in my childhood dreams,
Like I will the day I die…
I
have a dying soul, yes. It’s stricken down with tardiness, contempt and
callousness. It always has been. Common human stuff… can’t help it. It regrets
the day I was born. I have often heard myself mutter out loud for no apparent
reason --- “Not Again, DARN IT!”
I
believe (though suspicious) it could be the voice of my soul. After all who
would be happy getting fried over and over again? (APART from the brainwashed
chicken souls of KFC who believe their only ambition in cosmos is to burn in
animal fat. Yes, it’s gross. And God of course, who keeps getting grilled in
the fire of logic. “Oh no! Not again, DARN IT!” Could be his pet phrase too…
(But that is, if they both exist.))
Just
to be clear, I’m not subscribing to any belief systems here. Those eternally
doomed chicken souls should deal with their problems themselves. My dying soul’s
repetitive “not again…” is a mere reflection of deep inflicted desires about
finding peace through change. I’m a revolutionist after all! We all are! We all
want change according to our own perspectives. Some tend to be for personal
benefits, most for common good. Yes, it's true. I speak from experience. A little introspection
will prove it you. Man is, after all, a social animal.
But then comes the downfall. All our noble
ideas go through self rejection, eyebrow arches, hesitation, subjugation,
repeated tramping and treading and finally vanish into oblivion. What survives, is the world we know of and see as today. No wonder it is dying too. So am I.
So are you. And so is our collective soul.
But
don’t get me wrong. I’m not the physician here, nor am I the way seeker. (Yet).
I neither have the medicines nor the prescriptions. I’m merely the death news
bringer.
Yet I choose to bring the message of hope.
There
has been enough digression in the name of religion and tomorrow. Every thinking
man must make his own religion. Be the God of him. We must give our ideas a
better dimension to take form in. Shake
off this delusion that we are sheep! We are spirits, divine and free. Nothing
can hold us down. Ever.
I've never doubted that one man can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing
that has!
These human bonds restrain my wings,
Though silent, stifled --- my spirit sings…
A song of hope, a song of fire
A song that burns on reins of sin.
And as these flames take heights anew
My imprisoned dreams can reach out too…
The sickness burns and burns the pain;
The world seems better, so does the view.
I
look up at those stars with a longing in my eyes. Wondering what they might
think of us mere mortals. They must look down to find the lawlessness of the
universe, our ignorance… and start to wonder how the chaos in our lives passes
on as just fine.
They
won’t be very wrong…
But
I’ve been thinking about the meaning of revolution. The beacon of change. Maybe
it is a hope beyond me, but I find peace in my dying soul. A force which seems
to strengthen it.
And
the idea alone pushes me towards that light in my heart …and infinity in my
reach.
I
know not much if Gods could care,
And make us what we are --- divine.
But I have looked up to see those stars…
And oh! How wonderfully they shine…
