The Dreamer

Do the horses of your audacious mind run tirelessly in the playground of your world? Do they pose as the proud denizens of it? Is your mind always knitting new connections, constructing new roads that lead to a different and exotic locations every time? Do the limits disappear as soon as the mind starts scripting its imagination? Do you suddenly transform into a free bird which knows no boundaries, has no boss, who does not believe in destiny, who does it all but by itself? Let me abbreviate it for you; Are you a Dreamer? Talking of a dreamer it is me who stands in the witness box for I represent my race. We have no fear, we feel no pain and know no limits when we dream. We think solutions, not problems; we participate, not gaze. Do YOU too belong to our kind? Have you worn that dress that somehow never came out of the showroom? Have you ever driven the car whose keys you never had? have you ever eaten stuff that never came off the menu? Have you condemned what you always detested although you could never govern it? Have you lived everyday? have you laughed in the face of the most adverse conditions? Have you been adroit and called the whole world oaf? Have mysterious people come and allayed your pain magically? Have you alleviated the whole world from its abject condition? have you showed altruism even if you are penniless? If yes, then we are alike. It's great, isn't it? To be able to do everything beforehand, gives you foresight into the future.. You have a magical place where every wound gets healed. Where every person is amiable and supporting, where you always live under some aegis. We win, we celebrate; we fail, we dream again, and this time we win.If we fail again, we dream bigger and win bigger. You get a cure for all the distress, all the solitude, all the "nobody-gives-a-damn" feeling. It's all up there, its obscure, no one knows about it. Yet, tens of parallel connections create the greatest wonders possible. If its the first time you have realized it, aim bigger this time; if you already knew, know that you are alone. We are like the immortal army that somehow never gets defeated and always returns victorious. So for all our brothers and sisters, all those who are with us, abreast lets dream, lets dream together, and lets achieve it bigger, together. So leave the busy schedule, leave the monotonous routine. Go! just Dream...am waiting... we all are waiting...!

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Silverlight

The clock struck 12 and so does solitude. Gazing tirelessly into the mist of nothingness, wondering if there exists, a reason for it all. It is the beginning of a new day, the might sun will scorch brightly a few hours later, but till then its the moon, the solitaire up there standing lone among the black curtains, with light falling on my face, enlightening my vision, telling that there's someone up there, standing in the midst of darkness. Someone who took the baton from the yellow burner to spread white light at night. The burden of enlightenment in the midst of solitude because everyone's dozed off. He does not need to talk, his emotions are bound, or maybe it's because there's no one at this stark darkness to accompany him. He still does not care. Throws white light on my face as I stare. I think we have a lot in common. Our worlds are same but we rarely find someone. Its like pitch darkness, you see nothing, you see no one; maybe because there is no one. But he does not complain, fulfills his duty, he is enlightening, I might be his only company , but he doesn't care. s my face lights up, half though, with the silver light that enlightens both my body and soul. I look closely, I gaze back at the gazing moon. I see spots, I fell his spots. They are like incomplete, missing puzzle piece, denting his personality. But he is solitaire, he does not care, he's doing what he's appointed for- enlightening. But enlightenment is for people, and there are no people, there's only darkness, pitch black, hollow darkness, eating away anything that is present, or may be. But am sure there's no one, no one needs enlightenment, its just darkness. But he doesn't care. Just a few more hours and the yellow burner will take his baton back, as people need to see him for their morning. The white light goes unnoticed. But he doesn't care. And I still stare, stare at those spots, like hollowness, like fear, but he stands alone and does his work so its not fear. Its hollowness, something's missing, those missing puzzle pieces. But he does not bother, he doesn't want to find. I stare, I care, I feel the hollowness, looking for the missing pieces. I make efforts, but its just me, not he, for he does not care, just plays his role every night and leaves silently. He let the yellow burner brag. Is it the spots? is it because he's ugly? is it because he's tainted, imperfect, unlike the yellow burner which burns every inch of himself, nothing missing? I care, I think he's not ugly, the spots are scars, love scars, war scars, scars of good, scars of bad. They make him beautiful. The scars are beautiful, the spots are beautiful. People would disagree, although some might agree, but he doesn't care, for it is only I who stare and cares, I think too much. We have in common. I suffer, he suffers. I feel, I tell, he just stands quietly, silently, gazing, throwing the silver light, enlightening the darkness, enlightening the "no one", enlightening the nothingness. In the midst of solitude, he stays, I stare, but he does not care, he does not care, he does not care...  

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