But…

He smiled. She frowned. He did all to bring back her smile. Acted cute, made up jokes, prophesied his love for her in a dozen ways, and wrote her love songs amongst other endless frivolities. Alas, all in vain. Her mind seemed to be made up. She seemed to have something against him that was creating a gigantic rift between them in front of which even his titanic efforts were dwarfed but…

He didn’t give up. Trudged on steadily, undeterred. She left. Once again. She left in a huff swearing never to see his face again. He waited for her return. His patience gave way after a week and he started looking for her. In vain. She had disappeared off the very face of the earth, or so it seemed. Her phone was switched off and none of her friends knew of her whereabouts. She was at none of her favorite haunts. He was worried. He wasn’t even aware of the reasons of her rage. He had been a pillar of hope, but…

After that long his faith was waning. What, where, how, who? So many questions without any answers. He was terrified of what the future held. The uncertainty of it all flummoxed him. As he entered his house after the seemingly endless and fruitless search his every iota screamed at him for being such a blunt tool and for his obiter dictums but…

There she was. He smiled weakly, she looked resolutely. He felt his words tripping over each other. He tried to be more coherent. Failed. The words flew and chose their own course. She listened. But did she understand? He knew not. She called him stubborn yet there she was, closed to any hope, any dream. Letting the fear of striking out not only keeping her from playing the game but enjoying it too. Deep down she knew, joy unbounded waits but…

He closed his eyes, to hide his broken self. He remained little more than an empty shell casing without her. She was the bullet and with her gone, he was but a piece of scrap. He knew she’d win, he always let her. But unlike the other times he wished for things to be different; for her to lose, just this once, so that they could both win but…

Even before the words were out of her mouth, he knew. He could feel them coming. The curse of understanding her mercilessly flayed him before her words had a chance. Yet he tried. He tried hard. He knew he gave it all he could. He realized he was being verbose, but he couldn’t help it. He knew he held nothing back but…

All he could do now was await her decision. She was the slave and he, the master. Without fail. Always. Yet, in that moment the master’s soul was the slave’s toy and that was a piece of inerrant truth.

One more, he ordered. Me too, she chipped in. The barman smiled. They had had quite a few already.

He smiled at her, she looked pleased. He was glad. She had been stoic for a few days. That forebode ominously to him. But the events of that night brought with them a serene calmness. It had not been long, and he was yet to figure her out. But he didn’t care. He was glad for her presence there and the smile on her face.

She smiled back, content. He had parried her disarray till it stopped haunting her dreams. But she knew that the demon of confusion still lay low, waiting to strike. Yet with him, she was happy. Buoyant almost. The future remained shrouded in mist, she cared not. It was this moment that mattered and she was at peace.

Here you go, the barman left the tequila and lemons in front of them. They looked at the salted glasses and at each other. She giggled. Penny for your thoughts, he asked. She raised her glass and looked deep into his eyes, Just giving it a shot!

*a long while later*

Umm-hmmm. He blinked. Why couldn’t he recall the night. *CLINK* The bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold rolled gently over the floor and he smiled. His back felt heavy and he looked back. Her head lay nuzzling the small of his back and her legs dangled over the other side of the bed. Too much tequila’s never too good, he grinned and zonked out again.

Beyond the haze...

Tired of lying languidly,

Bored of the nonchalant daze,

I try and see,

Beyond the haze,

A surreal place,

Of dreams galore,

Where was reality,

I had cared no more,

A world so known,

A sinful variety,

I now let go,

Lost, in a newfound sense of propriety,

Everything is new,

Yet so familiar,

As if I was watching the same previously,

Just with glasses unclear,

I can see way beyond the haze,

The road’s long and the horizon far,

I care not and happily I walk,

With a hearty smile and my guitar.

Uncertainty

Herculean strength, the outer persona,
Barren wasteland, hidden beneath,
Micheal's light, shining freely,
Or Nebuchadnezzar's pit, in sanity's sheath?

Mist around, clouded way,
A dollop of gold for the last ride,
Enough it seems, flimsy delights,
Hell awaits, arms open wide.

The whirlpool beckons, the cracken cackles,
Yet the angel calls, opening the passage free,
To the pearly gates but slippery is the way,
Angel herself's lost or seemingly be.

What shall be lost and what found,
Remains shrouded in the shackles of time,
Hope lingers, will the angel too,
Charred is the end or eden sublime?

Epilogue:

I wish I knew :)

The modern Gospel of Judas- Injunction

Epilogue:

Clad in trinkets hiding wounds,

The silent arm gently swayed,

Watching the blade's brazen glint,

For a clean cut he prayed.

Again, but with a difference. Or perhaps the only difference lay in Mary's  reaction. Perhaps Christ was no longer the pillar of hope and sanity that he thought himself to be. Or perhaps Nazareth's crown of thorns had swayed her away. Restlessly he had battled within for over an hour deliberating the merits and cons of having a conversation that could only go 3 way, each way playing word by word in parallel inside the confines of his highly efficient brain. 

*An hour of dabbling in holy smoke later Christ finally summoned up the wits to have that conversation with Mary*

Mary often observed that the there lies absolute chaos in things well panned out. And the most clarity lies within chaos. What we truly are and what we choose to become depends on choices that lie in the hands of those most ill suited to take them. And yet we allow them to. Christ could relate to that, his entire life had been proving the same! 

But despite his well put words, for he could put them across really well, there seemed no difference in Mary's pattern that always ended up in invoking extreme loathing for the self. But the thing with hate is, you just can't hate specific targets. Once you invoke the demon of hate, it shall trudge its way up from the bloody pit only to swallow one and all in its way.

But what Christ always failed to grasp was the fact that words well meant are most misunderstood and often become the preludes for more saiyances to summon more and more demons from the pit of self wallowing and destruction. Can you imagine the pain of the saintly man who watches a lover writhe and cry before succumbing to a grotesque fate, right at the altar of their love? And then as the cherry on the cake, he is then made to carry the very coffin of his lover, strapped to his chest with the casket open so that nothing is allowed to escape his eyes. And he does so willingly. Such a masochist himself, Jesus effin Christ! 

Prologue:

Cuts, blunt and too many,

Suffering that never seemed enough,

His friend perhaps best,

Tough love or perhaps just rough.

Where reason fails does will survive,

Free will, a burden or a reprise,

The irrelevance of words,

Often lies in the best advice.

LOSS

Last words of an
Obiter dictum
Strangely incomplete yet
Subtly final

Rain...

He could feel the sticky drops of sweat binding him to his Tee and he wanted to break free. Get out of his skin. His insides had been eating him for days at end now. He'd tried almost everything, legal or forbidden, to rejuvenate but alas to no avail. He remained a prisoner of his own sub-conscious, the demons of his own creation...

And then the heavens opened and he saw a downpour like no other.

Rain

... thoughts failed him for once, and he ran out of all that confined him; the dark humid room, his sticky clothes, his own mind. The cold drops hit him like bullets, pelting from above. He braved the barrage for a couple of seconds before letting go...and let his naked body soak. A million faces and a zillion thoughts flurried through his mind before...

*BLANK*

It was all empty, zilch, nada, zero, nothing!! The downpour washed everything and nothing remained. Time passed, minutes, hours, days, eternity; he neither knew nor cared. He let the rain consume him until he was free.



Freebird

Fly high, Fly far,

Beyond the skies, beyond the stars,

No fear to stop on the way,

Fly freebird fly, this is your day.

Your nest is yours,

Nobody gets an inch,

Fly freebird fly,

Feel no pinch.

Ride the wind, let nothing stop you,

Above the clouds yet with every drop of morning's dew,

The angels are watching, become who you are,

Fly freebird fly, there is no bar.

Come back when you want to,

Nothing will have changed,

Fly freebird fly,

Thou art unchained.