The Void

 In the odious emptiness of breathes, I find myself remonstrating the self picture of where I am. When everything fades away at a glance, how do I know if I'm not lost in the pages? In antipathy of imagination, imagination that cultivated out of the reality that I travelled, I ask myself:

Why am I this way?

Did I choose this?

OR

Did this choose me?

I find silent chaos in crowd 

AND

I feel dark clouds around endowed 

                                                           Picture Credit

In those clouds, somewhere I find the freedom of wistful isolation and apprehension with unspoken, unheard and unseen numb void, the void that chains me in a place where all I want is escape. When it arrives, it burns me up and turns me into ashes. Yes, now for awhile I'm free because now I'm the ash from where I subtly rise again like a phoenix. And, the cycle never breaks.

Then, the realization provokes, the moment I lose myself is the moment I find myself and the moment I find myself is the moment I lose myself. Maybe, this void somewhere profoundly fills me up.

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