Something is happening, a palpable sense of anticipation has slowly crept and hugged me… it seems, these days, I am on a continuous wait… a voice somewhere between dream and miracle keeps chiming in! All that you see is and all that you do and all that is there…is transient.
How I wish … I had some insulation against my self, some grounding for the electricity of the being is lest it gets to lethal degrees. I need some help with this coil … and nope, a genius of Nikola (may his soul rest in peace) too wouldn’t have done the magic.
From the sleep deprived colliding hours of days … I manage to steal some time off that clock tower … one Saturday afternoon. Two completely un-interrupted hours of road-side opera of family weekend cars and a background score of Mario Frangoulis’s “dreamlike” tenor; with arc lights of sun spilling from cerulean blue sky of Maidenhead. Crisp, green and laced with the "warmth" of cool breeze - typical of North Pole proximity; a July in
Some days like these, all I see is the sun. Everything bright and smiling; words perfectly in tune. Other days, my heart tunes into different frequencies; I just can’t seem keep the rain check on the gypsy inside. I do not get my sentences right, do not get the lines symmetrical.
I wake up, throw myself into work … and its twilight; the clock runs me out again! And then in some other dimensions … all I have for company is copious amount of minute hands.
See? Transient! The consistent inconsistency! The rogue and the gentry live together.
CpRyt@NeerS