SOLILOQUY

SOLILOQUY 

Sometimes I get the inspiration to rise spiritually to serve as a beacon unto humanity. But these are fleeting glimpses into the deeper recesses of the being that kindle such dispassion and set alight the soul. Then they are gone like the sweet-scented spring breeze and the humdrum existence of day-to-day life overcomes the precipitated person again. 

With advancing age inspiration comes rarer but the moods are more stable now and the capacity to hold onto such flights of the soul is greater. Time flits by, though, and the day of departure inexorably draws near with little done, love and light scarce come by. The battles are lost and won as the war-weary soul trudges through uncharted terrain unto its dead end where what awaits one knows not.

Life has been a long long dream, a confinement in flesh and form, broken hearts, smashed ideals but unceasing hope yet, as if fuelled by some subliminal force that allows neither rest nor respite but careers one on unto the fulfilment of its singular passion---love. Why men chase wild geese, why this fascination for the mirage even after acquaintance with its hollow basis, who can tell?

Sunset is yet to be even as the shadows lengthen on the meadows where the willow is wielded. Nature spins out her magical yarn and the batsman fumbles. It's the wrist-spinner's wrong-un and the reading must be right. Else, on this sticky dog the pavillion will beckon the batsman early and a promising innings will be cut short.

Who cares after all for all this soliloquy but the one musing in reflective solitude? Where is sympathy in this hellhole of a world where necessity dictates human affairs and selfish interests determine life's priorities? Thus does inspiration come to rise above circumstance and be a beacon unto humanity, as if to undo all of life's maladies, all injustice that afflicts it and mars its singular beauty. But will I? 'To be or not to be' ever remains the lingering question.

Written by Sugata Bose