one

The most exciting prognosis for the malady called boredom has to be been-there-done-that. The ever-enchanting taste of newness is just a bitter aftertaste of something ancient. Sparks that excite the dark recesses of minds are the burnt remains of flaming foliage of memory. Alice in Chains are playing in the background singing

“I like to fly, but my wings have been so denied”

I have been wondering on the theme of reincarnation of late .It amuses me to think if the angst and aimlessness I seem to carry around are traces of something more potent in my previous life .It doesn’t make the burden any less, but it gives a fresh perspective. A “fresh” did I say? Ironical damnit, but what the hell anyways .I have a tingling feeling, maybe out of a sense to belong, that most people do carry their madness in them. Their walls seem to be less porous than mine, so that the lunacy hardly sips out. What would happen to such souls when they go through a rebirth cycle? Do they carry their ethereal madness with them into next birth, if at all the highly crazy idea of reincarnation holds any water. If all of my hypothesis is correct than I am going to one hellova sane person next birth,having vented out almost all of my madness this lifetime. and if all this is utter bullshit and God does indeed play dice, then again I’ll probably turn out to be more madder than Johnny Rotten, Kurt Cobain and Jim Morrison combined. And yeah I’ll probably have a more troubled childhood for a perfect excuse.

reprise of fairy tears

what has been will always be.
unlike whatever we experience--of all things exiting;there are certain things which are forever.a foreververness which lingers even when the thing seems to have been gone,and the lingeringness eventually bringing the form back.exhuming the dead is not what i meant.wiping the dust from the mirrors is what was in my mind.the oceanic waves of melancholy are temporal,trying obsessively to suck the fundamentals of beyond from our eyes,but they can't.the million stars of our world leave a trail,picking which we will always return to our beginnings,our love.love that made us beautiful,innocent and fragile.the mighty tear that drops is the holy water--the salt of the vast,heaving and silent ocean,and it cleanses.bathed in the aftermath of that solitary drop,we are reborn.
we are one.
reaffirmed.