Monday, March 20, 2006

Turn! Turn! Turn!

The Byrds, sang this song at one point of time. It served as an ad jingle for quite a while and then became immortalised when a painter made love to a prostitute and played it post coitus and gave hope to a lot of people. I seem to have this want to believe in this, and in the goodness that exists in the viscititudes of life and how the calm leaf that flows with the stream, will one day meet the sea than get caught on a rock somewhere.

And so it happens, another one bites the dust, an opportunity laid to waste, another lifetime of small events come to nothing and the boy stands with a puzzled expression. Sometimes in self mockery, sometimes in self pity. A pity that nothing seems to change, neither within, nor without.

Anyway, the better things first. Vijay got an offer for phd from Ohio State University. Well, this sort of leaves me as the lone wolf. And as they say in the north, in the fabled The Song of Ice and Fire, "winter is coming". And once again, I hope to be the direwolf, howling on nights where the wind bites icy chill in to the bones and blood freezes, reaching the heart which stops beating. But then a direwolf, or better still, Vorg, as I sometimes fancy myself, knows how to brave it, how to push through the bizzard, how to come through another winter.

It's ironic that what gives me hope this winter is the fact that there will be other winters. It is not the prospect of a summer that awaits or a glorious evening on the seashore or the dawn beside a brook that gives me strength. It is the knowledge that there will be another winter, which will bite further in to me, that tells me that soon, the ice around me will thaw. Maybe there will be a joyous spring, with the onset of red blooms and hues of yellow, green and lilac around me. Maybe I will lose track of my memories and of the ghastly visions of damned worlds that I beheld. Maybe, I will wander as I have been doing so far. Maybe, I will go over to the grasslands and search for the shore or the mountain that I have been sighting in some distant dreams. Maybe my search will never end.

Ironic that waiting and bearing the pain of the wait rubs art or fanciful thinking in to your blood.

Stranger still, that I wish that the winter ends. You ask why. So do I. There is no one else who is born in to the heart of winter. There is no one else, who can live through it. After all, a wolf or Vorg as the Russians seem to call it, is the only creature that braves it. Maybe, my consort was all along by my side. It just took me this long to come to terms with her. It took me this long to reaise that her beauty lay in the consistency of her frigidity. Her lovliness lay in her touch which would tingle me more than I could ever bear and would petrify me. She never fails. It is I who is guilty of trying to run away, trying to betray. This debauchery has to end. I need to be reborn as what I was born as.


Don't try to understand me. Just take care that you aren't hunting me when winter comes, for when I bare my fangs, I will bask in the warmth of love, while you will breathe your last awaiting the thaw that will never set it.

Red

1 Comments:

Blogger MadHat said...

I am beginning to feel that you are slowly going crazy...

12:47 AM  

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