Sit still.

I don't know why today I can't sit still at one place even for a moment. Even this, I am not being able to type in peace.  I feel oddly incapable of gathering my thoughts.  I haven't experienced such a degree of derangement in a long time. I do not know if this is a good sign.

Duuh, obviously that is because you are getting saner with each passing second. relax!

It is like, I close my eyes, real tight and I see this hazy, kind of sparkly fluorescent neon lights glaring back at me, grinning toothlessly in an alternating rhythm- a little bright, brighter, dim, dimmer and then Explode. I am drowning. I feel this undulating rhythm taking over me-sometimes a rage and then a warm, fuzzy afterglow the next instant and then again leaving a bitter acrid taste. It is not humanly possible to make sense of what I am feeling right now. I am greatly perplexed myself. I open my eyes and there are these dull splotches of colour staring right back impishly. It is all within me. The sound is deafening. I close my palms, clench my fist and feel my heart leap. Some tiresome being is weeping incessantly alternating between vociferous bawls and muted spasmodic pangs. It is all disturbing. Must there be a pattern here also? I am tired of patterns. I find myself whispering please in order to placate my trembling heart. I need to retreat. And then I am cowering under the altar, pleading redemption.

        

       'We were talking-about the space between us all

And the people-who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion

Never glimpse the truth-then it's far too late-when they pass away.

          Try to realize it's all within yourself

No-one else can make you change

And to see you're really only very small,

And life flows ON within you and without you.   '

Okay, relax now. Everything is fine.

To frame or not to frame.

Another empty frame stealthily creeps in. Unmistakably black against the white light. Before I can hastily grab  and  immortalize 'that' picture or 'some picture', it fades again, unmistakably white- against a black light this time.Tired and befuddled.The scent however lingers in the wake of all this mindless commotion.it happens all over again. and again. The same process repeated down to the minutest detail. Empty frames flit in and out.
  I have stopped counting the number of failed attempts to immortalize 'my picture'. An opportunity lost is lost forever. Maybe it was never meant to be.My picture was forever flawed. i did not realize it before. Now that i know,does it change anything? Does all this empty commotion have a far greater significance that eludes my immature, impractical being.? Maybe it is time to jettison all that excess baggage which has been weighing down on my diminutive frame,for what seems like ages now.
or maybe I need to simply walk that extra mile, carrying that extra baggage till I reach that state of coherence when I can discard it all with with eloquent ease-and with one sweeping stroke of my paintbrush give the finishing touch to my picture which had always been in the process of formation. just that I with all my whining and ceaseless complaining never realized it.
I can frame 'my picture' then.
.