Little did he knew everything arrives with a price and price with consequences
They say if a Butterfly flaps her wing the vista could be a tornado somewhere else.
OK am back here again, I do seldom ask myself that what’s special about this place the same air lighter smoke, and an immaculate subtle pinch of pain, and to my astonishment, the answer I get is lovely and solemn, simply because no one recognizes me here. It could be an alibi to ran away from the bigger picture but than let it be because somehow maybe with reluctance but my mind and I we both mutually agree on it and that’s something prime and unavoidable to reach an agreement a settlement and it set’s a motion, a motion for peace and at last maybe i do found a controversial understanding here. Although I try but whatever I do, I just can’t stop my thoughts or even seize the flow, that just never happens it keeps floating like an untamed creature alleviating in whatever path it founds trying to escape but in the end, you have to accept whatever you’ve come to an informal pact as they say wise man’s agreement. Recently I lift the pen thought I won’t be able but sometimes we do take things for granted even ourselves forgetting the midnight talks like a shot in the dark fighting the odds exploring the uncharted territories and forcing the uncertain to be certain as to when it started it flew so wild yet conscious like a bird getting wings back, like soul to dead a melody floating over waves like an irate Lucifer getting it’s sanity back and above all closing your eyes and feeling the caressed touch like a tender yet soft intend. I felt good I really did like a pleasure and a privilege, I felt free the only thing I ever wanted to be. Recently there was something missing the weakness returned not because other’s have gone better but because I haven’t improved at all, or neither I have ever been myself, words degraded broken into pieces with the shaky hands jumbled flabbergasted yet fragmented thoughts. I tried to connect the dots but all went in vain. Like a mask that protected me from the world or if I was trying to create one, something that never was. Yet something was assured something not good like a dark passenger balancing on every side , finding the exact center of gravity moving towards one and losing another, in the end, failing with landslide. Some may say it as another incomplete brick trying to fit in the puzzled world. Or another broke waiting for the perfect once in a blue moon night to shine, as in the end it always comes to this, an orb full of prejudice and every move assuming to be prefixed like our looping lives, universe consigning in a fist. And whatever happens, you’ll always keep hearing it, something that you have always heard, sometimes loud sometimes jumbled sometimes crystal but mostly coal. Yet the next time you’ll hear it either you can ignore it hiding behind the heavy mask or embrace it by creating the mask which was never meant to exist.
To be or not to be the answer relies on you only. Yet the Butterfly will fly not to mention the effects it’ll cause.
Look for the petrichor and get dragged in the heavenly smell.
And tell everyone to flutter, flapping their wings fastest they could soaring in the sky as high as they could.
Because happiness is everywhere waiting for you to grab
Little did he know some flights can never be restricted.
By- Kshitij Sinha