Pages of dream

T

he date and time of execution was set, dark clouds seemed to find a place above my head, the sight of light that greeted me with glee seemed to eulogize the darkness which was fast slipping away and I was, with much strain, trying to hold on to darkness with a long piece of cloth, entreating it to sustain the blindness forever.

The chirping of birds for long had gone past my threshold of listening and I was more inclined to the clanging of chains and the click of iron locks and my mind was inure to mirth and joy of youth and it seemed to find solace and comfort in the meaninglessness of commands. The life of freedom and choice seemed like the ruins of xanadu, the musical notes as unto poisoned arrows of pygmies. The scorpion of hate and scorn crawled over my feet and the ground was strewn with thorns like words fallen on ground crashing on metal ears.

Even as I wish to drench my pillows with tears, I realize my pillows for long have been the stone and my heart hardened, like my pillow, failed to acknowledge pain that can moisten my glassy eyes. Cages with rounded strips of steel as my closest companions, I seemed to reconcile to the dungeon of rebellion and darkness.

Perhaps, words of freedom where the last thing I wanted to incline ears to. My eyes caught a crushed paper on the floor, a leaf of a magazine probably used to wrap up some sort of metal nails. The randomly formed creases, typefaces distorted, the color of rust interspersed somehow seemed to mirror the state within.

Little did I reckon that in this little paper was found my window to paradise far away from the world of grades and assessments, laws and questions, pain and desires? With my heel of footwear, not of my choice, firmly planted on the cell of my dungeon I let my eyes to fall on passages to liberty. First my eyes then my head and then my whole being including my soul was magically wrapped up in this little printed page.

I did never dream that I will be far away from the stringent measurements of judgment, nor did I dream that the rhythm and melody of my heart will one day find perfection along with the cacophony of my the clanging chains of law for I dreamed not at all. And then I came to the realization that the paradise of my being lies not in a world yonder but in a choice of challenges and wishes strung in perfection with words that can enliven me and many.

Bondages are seldom managed but at best broken asunder – in the mind.