Polyphase

It is dark. Darkness. Am I sleeping? I do not think so. My eyes are wide open. I try to close my eyes to check if they are open. Palpebras squeeze darkness into my eyes. I again open my eyes. Darkness spreads loneliness. I move my hand to see what is around. I cannot stretch hands to full. Confinement of the mind is sin. It arrests growth. But it sustains strength. Till death, that is.

Again I move my hands to touch the roof. Slowly. Slowly. Touch. I withdraw my hands immediately. A messy substance sticks to my nail. What is it? It is dark. Darkness everywhere. I can hear some sounds as if a river flows. As if there is a waterfall. As if someone walks. As if someone dances. As if someone cries. I sharply listen to my surroundings. Where am I? The sound of darkness is the greatest of all burdens. Listen. Sound of darkness travels fast in the medium of loneliness. Faster if fear is present. The presence can be felt. The presence of fear can be smelt. It smells like the sole of a new born baby. It also smells like the petals of fresh flowers that are just bloomed. What is the smell of darkness? Is it… It is.

I am struggling in the dark. I never knew that darkness has a face. I know now. Darkness has a face that smells. Someone pushes me down. Oh! I have been caught. Caught in the stream of existence. Caught. Caught. Naught. My face is facing down. Trying to lift my head. I cannot. I want to get up. I cannot. I can only move my tongue. Tongue licks the ground. Tongue tastes the taste of darkness. How to go out? Wait. Waiting is over. How to go out? Wait. Waiting is over. How to go out? Out of darkness. Out of pain. Out of pain that comes after pleasure. Out of pleasure that comes behind pain. Someone shouts at me. Someone pushes me.

The face of darkness is everywhere. There is light. But it fades now. How about going there? There is light. But it fades now. There is light. It hurts. Am I waiting for something that will hurt me eventually? I am not sure if this is called waiting. Living cannot be put inside the box of waiting. Living is life. Waiting is death. But dying is to face the darkness through darkness. I move my hands. I move my legs. It is dark everywhere. I feel for the first time that there is something with me. Something that cannot go away. Confinement is sin. I open my heart. A cool breeze that soothes.

It is still dark. I taste the sands of time. I taste the heat of fire. I hear the sound of cries. And I have to sleep now. Eternity blows the conch. The vibration that shakes my heart is the first step. I have to sleep now. Eternity blows the conch to make a seed out of me. To create flowers is to live like flowers. It starts drizzling. To create is to live. It starts raining. I lift my head. It is pouring. It is pouring in the dark. Pouring out.

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