Do

Time goes by my friend, and there is nothing left but the silence of the music, which haunts your memory … bits of a very disturbed memory. What can music do in front of these oppressing sirens of violence? How may any contribute to the extermination of such complication? And the never-dying question: Do we still have time?

Time, my friend, is being stolen from us … in front of our bodies … under our bare eyes … and against our own volition!

O heaven!
O Witness of our case!

We ask not a quick salvation, but some tranquil moment in time; an era of peace, to rest the wary eyelids, the aching hearts, fragile legs!!

What can I tell you my friend about the days of yore?
I will not portray my life at that period in colorful hues .. I never knew any colors, then. My perception of Life was: Happy-Sad equation, neither more nor less. And permit me to assure you that ‘grief’ had the widest share. Yet, my grief wasn’t – for the wonderment of many – a dramatic one. I used to think of it as a remedy; sometimes, it was as a consolation. Others, an alteration.

O friend, words are going to wither upon my boughs. They are like the little leaves. They need watering. They need pruning. They need helpful hands and warm-hearted harvesters. Unluckily, my own plantation is as abandoned as an untrodden desert.

It has been so.
And most probably, will stay as such!

The quandary doesn't lie with Others.
It exists with me.
Something in my enigmatic personality that deteriorates every relation .. mutates it .. and leaves only bitter hearts at the dark corners!!

Still, I defy this.
And will always do.
Will always do.
Always do.
Do.