Letters that I didn’t write

– Part 1

The slippery slope .

What happens when you accidentally come across something which your beloved ones wrote at length, on the ravages of time ?

A stream of slivers of time lines fall in front of you showing you multiple dimensions none of which you could have imagined as a possibility.

In as much as it is unbelievable it is guffawing because you desperately wanted your past to have been gentler if not wiser because at the epicentre we are heroes of our own stories and yet it has shown up itself as a savage who finds himself as the king of the jungle where it still is just another ape wandering carelessly like an epicurean.

You thought you were playing chess to make truce with the constitution but it hit you so hard. that all the tactical blocks wither away stumbling one by one in a game of dominoes not chess.

And then you plan another chance,

Blue or red …

Which one would you choose if you were inside. inside the matrix ?

Hitherto your mind was in control but then you suddenly realise someone else’s riding and you were at the backseat.

You never got to chose exactly what you confer as your destiny , you were just slipping inside the realm of a giant clockworks hopping from gear to gear finding the lubricants of life.

Inevitable as it may be,

That moment of truth is sick ,

Ridiculous if not contemplative,

It is indeed a conspiracy,

To search for solace

escaping the menace ,

Cutting through the wild ,

In search of horizon and the zenith.

Washing away in soliloquy,

Lurking in the dark to search for the true light.

Burning your desire of life ,

To the point your ashes fly high …

But you forgot one thing ,

You can’t break free.

Ironically,

The quest for redemption hasn’t ended ,

Ashes gravitate back to its organic matter,

Searching for its master,

In the circus of life.