How pretty are the fairytales, the stories of far off lands where magic is alive. The enchanting land of fairies and goblins, beautiful princesses and charming prince, of magical creatures, of spells and potions, of granting wishes, and yet, of witches and monsters,evil forces pervading through. Silence and chaos, going hand in hand, yet a belief in goodness, in the triumph of goodness over everything evil is what holds me there.
Reality smothers me sometimes, decadent and factitious when looked at closely. Often betwixt the resolved and the unresolved are matters that are metaphysical in nature, like intution, inexplicable, yet substantial. This journey seems to go on forever, the journey called life, inescapable. Sometimes it is a chase, the farther I go from it, the more it daunts me, drawing me nearer. I wonder why death is considered so morbid? It seems like a peaceful haven, away from the mundane life, lulled in slumber.
Death arouses plaintiveness, while I find life full of pathos, which can never be eradicated completely. Unpredictability at every stage, the fear of the unknown, like constantly running through a maze, often coming to dead ends that hold no answers. The darkness is burgeoning and the mere sight of light is more than often misleading. Why, then try so hard to find the right way out? Yet, the fight and the suffering that follows,all in vain.
The cobwebs I build, the mesh completely tangled
the threads I want to break away from, untangle
Because the reality is intermittent
death is the only truth, constant.
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