Causeways to deja vu

Posted: February 11, 2010 in Philosophical musings
Tags: , , ,

I mean really, what does it take to carry the spirit of man, his desires and ambitions and at what point does one think one has it all and yet keep trudging along trying to conquer the world- in limited capacities, being pushed over to the limits of randomness and out- through quests that are unwarranted in a constant state of déjà-vu?

Is there a book one can go by without succumbing to ideologies and notions far removed from the impervious brain to the rhythms of human survival and aspirations?  Nay! Reaching for the stars and falling short. Surely not wanting to be a ‘hollow one’ but finding oneself at the altar of being sacrificed for what could be reality, when what one wants is the spectrum of a life lived without comprehending in its fullest sense the essence of the word but carrying on through consuming wind-swept deserts and ice-storms all man-made in one’s mind.

Can one just live without being alliterations, sacrificed again by one’s own whims and intuitions and falling off a precipice, that one is fatigued wanting to climb? And when one is dying to believe the ‘what for’ and ‘the purpose of life’; when a wave of skepticism drowned one in its despair, prolonging the journey.

Would the final nail be trounced into the burnished coffin of one’s singing melodies and a sandstorm so cooked up that it got disfigured beyond reason? Would then be the I, catapulted to heights or drowned into the murky rivers of effluence that once swept the city though its underground canals to let be in the oceans, to dilute all those trivialities into one big amalgamated sea of washed up dependencies and fervor?

 Can one be done, wanting to quench the thirst and move on to a place that owns me in its calling and protect oneself from the heatstroke’s even if it be an exalted position up there, waiting to be discovered in the wings of lost glory. Perchance, like a cumulus cloud with notions of invincibility and a cloak of defiance but self-sustaining in its endeavors, yet moving on; for fear of looking back and finding nothing following of a worthy cause, not even shadows.

Causeway to fluttering thoughts that had a wing plucked out and dabbled in paints of illustriousness that washed away, dimming its glory with new fangled thoughts, subverting to yesterdays left-over’s in the mind. That once had brimmed over with grandiose images and illusions that rode on the wings of a rainbow, untouched yet beckoning the spirits of yesteryears, to elevate it to a sublime -often mind numbing feelings.

Creativity indeed! Is the ‘I” but a notion in one’s own head, wobbling unsteadily between rhymes and reasons, leaving unfinished the works of the mind flowing down on the pages of a literary novel without an end, beginning or middle? Somewhat slippery in its presentation, held between the dustcover of knowledge and experience that one would owe to an existential randomness, that one cannot often comprehend, leaving it all in a tide pool of insufficient currents. 

Stagnant!

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Comments
  1. Meera San says:

    Can one be done, wanting to quench the thirst and move on to a place that owns me in its calling and protect oneself from the heatstroke’s even if it be an exalted position up there, waiting to be discovered in the wings of lost glory. Perchance, like a cumulus cloud with notions of invincibility and a cloak of defiance but self-sustaining in its endeavors, yet moving on; for fear of looking back and finding nothing following of a worthy cause, not even shadows.

    – Like this part a lot and this explains stagnation very well !

  2. Thanks a bunch for reading. Stagnation is lousy and career stagnation- the pits!