Dec 21, 2010

Him and his remains

She has my blessings. She does not know. Unaware. She does not care.

Even if she doesn't know that she is set to be free before him, I know it. He has to stay. For some more time. Alone.

Symphony she shows. She is supposed to go happy. Because that's all she knows. That's the only way she knows. Harmony.

The tide is breaking down the walls of named wisdom. Its smooth and slow. As if there is no pain. Years, and aeons, and moments, they look the same. They slash. And smoothen the surface. Of those walls so fluently carved and crafted when made. Every lash he tries to stand strong. And slips. And slips. And slips. By now, he must have learnt to slip well, on the smoothness of once dreamt of inglorious palace walls. Lonely as it stills now. It stills. Still.

No one stays there now. Only Him. Him and his remains. And everyone else is gone now. Even her.

No comments:

Post a Comment