Wednesday, August 31, 2011

It's, but words again

Six months have I been gone. But you were here. Waiting. Knowing. That I'll be back. That it might be long, but it'll never be never till I return. Plumbing the darkest depths of a churning ocean. Spinning out a maelstrom of, what else, but words.

So here I am again. Returning as you'd known. Without a grain of strength or spirit. Typing away at midnight. With feet as always cold. In the peak of Summer. But somehow colder still. Literally and figuratively. Finally feeling true to myself. Finally writing - not in the usual soft-pencil clickety-clack of a restless brain on visceral ether. But the harder, soothing clack of a letter at every key press.

And to think that the moribund 'Come death take me, I am ready' days had already acquired the warm after-glow of hilarity that only retrospection, anticipating its absence in the future can bring. Fool's paradise. So here I am. Back again. Immune to sun rises and sun sets. To raindrops and their tingling touch. To the earthy smell. And humid heaviness. We sit feeling the 'virtual' pleasant cool of freshly-verdant, drenched tree leaves twirling in the short lived monsoon  breeze, through the extreme cold of our air conditioned offices.

Whew, I feel better already. So you are - connivingly knowledgeable, but waitingly loyal - the best friend I could have. Absorbing silently all the emotional churning my plunges to the darker side create. And for now, you are the only one who should hear. Call it minimum dissipation of disturbances.

But time and again it's been the same catharsis - Words. They've been my blessing, my curse. The best gifts I can get. And tools of torment. My desire. My hope. My craving. The void. The presence. All manifesting through the inextricable net that words weave. The net you spin, but can't withdraw.

What I've said today, so far, was not what the restless occupant of the cranial cavity set about spinning when I fell fatigued on my bed wanting nothing but a good night's rest. But this occupant wanted an outlet. It had been a long time since we actually word-ed.

What will you do, when I walk the precipice of reason.
Watch me walk the edge or lasso me in?
Watch me slip and fall or deep dive?
Or steer me in, off the line?
All you need is a rope.
Yours to wield - it's the Words you braid.

Let's call it a night. I know, you know, that the best is still for the ether - ethereal it is!