Off Days

There I was lying on the terrace looking up at the sky. (Used to do it a lot in my younger days. Never got bored with it then. Now the same sight is not so thrilling and inspiring.

Play of time.

Of course it was night, bad and dark, chilly and misty- There was the black sky above as ever, completely starless, looking down with its unseeing eyes.
Was it really so bad. May be not. Our mood reflects on nature, it discovers the strange in the physical.

What was I thinking, may be I was sitting dumb, without a thought coming in to the brain. But then do the thoughts really come in, or do they arise within.
There is no easy way to tell.

Some say we create everything from within.

Hell that is daft. Would anyone want to create something so utterly devoid of beauty? All right it’s a personal view. Views are always sentimental. ( What the hell am I talking about)

Anyway those were terrible eyes, those that the starless sky turned on me, millions of them, unsighted and blank, but may be seeing everything, may be devising it all , may be providing the screen to enact it all, making you naked, touching your insides….

A bad night?

A night for demons? (Demon, what is a demon? It stirs up from within does it not?)
Where do such thoughts come from? It’s weird how they stoop down on you- sudden and immediate-like.

-Pounces, pounces could be the word -Crouching and springing, tearing and swallowing-Something wild, something unmanageable, and something lethal and destructive.
Evil is it? No, definitely not... Evil is intelligent, it’s not muscular, it’s not natural, it’s an imposition.

They say there is the unconscious, the terrible canvas on which the soul is painted. It holds dreams and revelations. It’s the treasury of existence. It’s behind everything, lurking in the horrible darkness, silent and bristly, vengeful and adamant.

No I do not believe that. It can’t be. There is no such thing.
Everything is conscious, the UN conscious is the forgotten, that one shirks away from, that one dislodges and casts away.

It’s not ever cast away. You can’t shovel the past out; you can’t replace it with the present alone. History is a dumb presence in the background, it can’t be hidden, it can’t be concealed and done away with.

I am rambling am I? It’s the mood, really! We need something to blame on for our off days