Tuesday, July 14, 2009
It has been going on for so long, that it now actually puts him at ease. An analgesic feeling of relief spreads like wildfire in his body. The descent is rapid. Things are hazier than a blur. But what does it matter? Its the same all over. And whenever there is a prick of conscious guilt on the inside, he tries to hold on. To the stony walls of the chasm he was tumbling down into. Scratching and bruising. Leaving meaningless marks of his transient presence. But the action, the adrenaline dies down rapidly. In vain. The space is cold. Numbing his periphery. Less work, he thinks. The beginning is like a little spot of light in the distance. The end is dark and endless. But for eyeslids closed tight, these are a cipher. Where does it stop? Does it matter even if it does? What after it does? Is there enough strength left inside to fight the smoke in his head and search for a crack which leads him to a life giving ray of light? Or just be the proverbial voice emanating from the floor of the well? And what when the voice silences down?
at 6:56 AM