Have you ever stared down the demonic depths of a dingy abyss?

Or

Have you ever felt that sudden urge to resign…when those dark eyes of lucid heights call you?

If not… then allow my words,
To take you,
Through the tranquilizing horror,
And the anxiety-ridden silence,
Of that moment.

That moment when life knocks you down,
You hit your head on the cold and rough floor;
The world goes dead;
Your feet go numb;
Your eyes meet the dark;
And your ears…
Your ears embody those maniacs,
Who talk to the hushed nights
And claim to have learnt the secrets of life.
Those maniacs might be poets!!

Anyhow…

That moment, my friend…
Can be the death of your soul.
That moment, my friend…
Can bequeath you with scars…so deep;

So deep…
That an artist won’t shy away before carving them onto a stone and shouting out loud,

“Has the world ever seen a carve so abstract?”

You… my friend,
Will be standing in that crowd of mute spectators,
About to raise your hand to claim that,

“This is the relic to my crippling agony!”

But…
Those words will never leave your lips;
Your teeth will bite your tongue before it sins to let them out!

Why?

Because…
When you take your pain and pour it onto those words;
When those words escape your mouth and reach some ears;
Then… your pain comes to life;

It becomes your “Forever”!

Studded with gems, crafted with gold.

A lustre so bright… the moon held an intent to conspire the world against it.

A smile so kind… the ink stopped bleeding praises for a mother’s heart.

Eyes so deep… no man could quieten his curiosity to explore the mystic realm behind.

No sculptor’s hands would have dreamt of carving a nose so sharp.

The brow screamed the wisdom that the charming silhouette promised to behold.

It was a mask… Oh! So fine!

It must have taken the nobility of a prince.
It must have taken a heart, as pure as ash… to be honoured with such an adornment.

Or, so the world believed… until a harsh blow of wind claimed rebellion and knocked the mask off.

The crime was “Contempt of the royal visor”…

The wind wasn’t guilty…

But, the appalling sight that followed, it poisoned the air.

It was a corpse for a face.

Deep dark ditches for those beautiful eyes.

A long sharp thorn for the finest of the noses.

A rotten scab for that skin of gold.

Folks yelled curses, hissed at the ghoul.

Babies wailed with fear as they hugged their mothers.

“To boycott and shun the guest of dishonour”, was the court’s way to bring justice.

The trial would have been the ghastliest of them all…

Only if, another masked man wouldn’t have stepped into the arena.

Only if, another gleaming piece of gold wouldn’t have inebriated the eyes of the rank and file.

‘cause, who frowns at the evil when they get to gasp for the artistry.

The world has a way to forget justice for glory.

That rugged and withered wooden door…it stood in front of me as it greeted my somber mask… A mask, my soul wore with pride.

My hand reached out for the door knob and rested at it for a while.

I stared at my hand….with eyes hollow enough to engulf the world around me.

Paying my due respects to the time I wasted for this inane ritual, I tightened my grip and opened the door…. closing my eyes, for…I expected to meet a sharp and piercing glare.

But… Rather…I was welcomed by ostracizing darkness.

I stepped inside the room, unknown to the world that lay ahead.

My fear would have paid the merchants well… The room lit up, as bright as a jovial day… as soon as I stepped in.

I was in the middle of a sea of books… both, bulky and thin.

Yes… It was a library… except, this one wasn’t preaching me some modern science. They called it, “The library of life”.

A book called me out. It was the frailest of them all… Its cover was as dark as nothing.

I pulled it out. The cover refused to share an essence to the wisdom ahead, hence… tempting me to dive into the book.

I followed suit, out of grave curiosity.

A cruel flash of light fell on my eyes, forcing me to turn my face away.

The mystic gleam, soon, faded away… and, I… I dared to look at the only page.

It was, but, a mirror.

Engraved at the top, was a sentence that must always echo in my head…

“For once, you may challenge the facts, but the wise don’t question ordeal.”

That was the greatest book of them all.

It compelled me to read myself.