The ocean of love

  

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Loaded with all the variegated colours of joy and happiness, filled with hope infused by Robin Sharma’s “The monk who sold his Ferrari”, I took a deep breath and plunged into the ocean of life once again… for you my love are worth a million lifetimes…
The tides high and low and the creatures deep below, the chill of the water against my skin  failed to induce fears of doom, and as I wade through the currents so strong, I realize how inseparable are we.

With an aubade on my lips I greet the morning sun, and so much I long to be in your arms. To feel the warmth of your presence around me and create a wonderful collage on the blank easel of life.

The silence in my heart complemented the roar of the waves as mistpouffer mystified the fog I saw. I continued my way… Unabated, unabashed slowly and steadily…assuring myself that elysian is not far…
Blank

Draught

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Hues of brown and orange filled the parched landscape of doom. The rays of the golden sun mercilessly heated the naked ground below, devoid of its once lush green vegetation. There was nothing left of the biodiversity that once thrived here. A perfect epitome of disaster and calamity.

Every passing day came out with a fresh lash at the prevailing draught with survival being a challenge and death the only reality. Plants and animals were history and a few alive humans were close to becoming so.

Nature can be so cruel and partial. Scarcity to one, abundance to other, happiness to one and sorrow to the other. Heaven to one and life worse then hell to other.

I dream of not the water fountains nor a shower bath, but lord I ask only for a glass of potable water!

Epitome

A phase ….

I continued in silence, bearing the tyranny destiny offered me. Moving from one place to another, doing all the errands in a lifeless, mechanical way. Life was reduced to just a word.

With no joy and sleepless nights, my world was limited to a set of routine repetitive movements, with none of the acts being registered in my mind. No emotions flowing and neither  ridicule nor affection touched me.

I watched myself as a spectator playing the game of life in a very efficient manner, however lacking the emotional reactions and outbursts which were a part and parcel of my former nature.

Life revolved around me, but non touched my very existence. A silent melancholy had settled on me, unmovable, unshakable, in refutable.

Phase