Posts Tagged ‘creator’

GoingWithTheFlow

I feel restless. As if the meaning of life has further inched its way into the dead blankets of obscurity. I am subconsciously aware of what I am doing. Just not sure why am I doing it. Every task I have taken, every job I did, reeks of a certain ‘way’ that someone from time has punched in my head. Placed into my way. Made it his own. I am ‘asked’ to tread on it. But why? Why didn’t they tell me why?

Why do you do a thing? Why do you do a particular kind of job? Who puts it into your head? To follow a certain thing? Why do you need to follow it in the first place?

Our lives are taught. Fetched, out of our own will, misled and misdirected just to engage ourselves in something meaningless and superficial. So that we don’t question back. So that we don’t bother look up into the sky for answers.

So puny I feel sometimes, not able to do anything about finding our creator. So many people who have access to what lies yonder, who are able to move freely in space, who defy gravity that keeps us together on ground, are so lucky, are so fortunate to be able to explore. If it is not about finding Him, it couldn’t be just about dying.

Humans are stereotyped engineers. Robots following orders from better and upgraded versions of other robots. No matter how much you know, how much you are aware about your exploit, you still cannot do anything about it. Just following, like puppets, every command fed in your head. So pointless our existence! Such meaningless our struggle for answers! Nothing drops by. Nothing makes it here. Nothing changes.

I wish to find You. I just wish, You take me away from all of this. I don’t care if it’s nothing but dark out there. I just wish to know the truth for once. For once I wish not to be lied to!

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It is so weird how I get so much involved in my life, I rarely get time to do what I love doing the most. Writing is hard. But it also is soothing. It brings me back to awesomeness. It makes me embrace reality. It pinpoints me out from the rest and escalates me to a level I wish to stay forever in.

Writing is hard for me. Just like it has been for Moody from Californication. But my words are just thoughts put into a piece of paper. How hard could that be? English isn’t my mother tongue either. Yet I feel like I have a connection with this language. I must have been deep rooted into this shit. Or maybe I was destined to fall in love with it. Maybe in my eyes it’s much appreesh……!

It turns music when you come into the same frequency as of your thoughts. Then you love your words. You marvel your brain for the beautiful music it creates. You sway to it then. You feel the depth of your words. You feel that twist in your guts. It is beautiful. The sheer knowledge that it emanated from you, fills your bosom with pride.

Ever wondered how impeccably an author describes his characters and gradually fills life into them? You are compelled to put them into your imagination. You create them with your thoughts. They become as real as they get in your head. Every writer is an artist, a creator, who breathes life into inanimate objects.

I am such a big fan of writing. It brings out the best in me. Without it I would be just so ordinary. It excels me in my own eyes. I don’t care what people say. I like being my own judge. My creation brings a smile to my face. That should suffice.

Some story I am, from a book unknown.

I am just so involved, I overlook what makes me. Words. I have been carved with words. My soul was written with words, of some great writer with a simple pen yet with a good heart. For that I will be extremely grateful for the rest of my life.

I have been written and described in a book, just like gazillions of people all across the globe have been penned. We are all stories, our features described, our stories narrated. All we are supposed to do is play our parts and be our writer’s story.