It’s 5 past midnight. I step out of my home in search of peace. My thought, breathe and emotions are mixing up. The turbulence of my sentiments is whirling around me. I feel like running away from my soul and time. I take my first step and move along, soaking every piece of picture on the road.I drag myself from the street. I see a dog barking before me.
“Perhaps he has a better life than me” I say to myself. I walk ahead the dark road to gather some amity. The darkness on the end of this road reminds me of my life. I step ahead to end the darkness but I find myself caught more in the black trap. I find it an illusion just like people around me.
On the next corner I find an ice cream stall. I thought of buying the sweet stick on this lonely walk.
“You aren’t well vt” says a part of soul within me. I realize that I am not well. I should not take the sweet ice cream. I miss the sweetness of love, care and affection in my life. I pine for the mellifluousness in my days and nights.
I glance on the other side ignoring the sweet part of this walk. On the next step I find a sweet couple sitting on a bench chirping in the park. The girl’s head resting on boy’s shoulder with a gentle smile crossing her lips. They must be exchanging “I love You”s among themselves. I crave for cupid’s presence with his bow and arrow. I sound like an unsatisfied sex animal. Don’t you think so? “I wish” and “I crave” too much. Don’t you think so?
I cross the next section of the road. It’s too silent down here. I can hear my heart beating. I can hear the whispers that my filthy foot makes with the pieces of twigs lying on the silent road. I fathom the absence of short lived peace in my existence. Perhaps the peace in our lives is short lived. I see the tall street light standing above my head spreading its luminosity unbiased. I find the meaning of my life in this piece of metal. It gives us a chance to live ourselves or to let others live for you.
I take a U-turn and walk back to home with the unambiguous lesson I extracted from this walk.
Photo credit: katz / Foter / Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC 2.0)