As my head touches the pillow, My spirit gets flight and in to the waves of slumber I let myself go caring less about the world am leaving behind because I know on the other-side, am going to be all I want to be; The King of My Own Destiny. Reality scares me, Reality weakens me, but in dreams is my strength. Despite my earthly misfortune, I get that minute glimpse of hope... That one day the sun will raise and set over my head. I'm a hero... in dreams.
The beams of the evening sun caress the vast park sending shades of gold over nature's green. Nannies run after toddlers in an angry merriment, Parents sit on park benches keeping a hawk's eye over their children, Infants urgently demand for this cotton candy or that ice cream cone. Some teens seem to enjoy the magic of the evening while others wish for thunder than be part of the family field day. The elderly seek peace since it was already established that there would be no quiet. Younger lovers sit in excluded corners embracing each other. This is why I love working in the park because I get to see all the milestones of life.
I smell a rat, A rat I know so well. It's stench is as strong bringing salty tears in my eyes and a nauseating lump in my throat. I wish I could choke on it and die than humiliate myself with a broken heart's tears. Coz I have been down this road and yet I let myself fall in so deep. I'm like shattered glass among grains of sand. I wish I could find myself but I have got no power left this time. Four times I have been bitten, Five times still not shy. How could I forget that I am just a stepping stone? How could I forget?!
It's three weeks now since I started my visits to the secret pond. I stumbled upon it on my tear-blinded walks in the woods. Since then I have been a devoted visitor, the only one who sought the spiritual healing in its still waters. But on that night I could not miss the difference even in the air I breathed. He was there... for the very first time... and probably the last, I saw the man who was not there. He stood in a spot not far from mine. In the moonless night had I not focused I would have missed him, he was smoky-white, I could almost reach through him, his unusually long frail back seemed stiffer than wood, and the hairs on his head were scanty long tendrils that made waves in the slight blow of the night breeze. There were no features on his face save for the blank hollows where his eyes were supposed to be. But I bet my soul there were tears streaming out of them. His smoky hands and legs faded away into the darkness. Despite his physical unnaturalness, there was nothing terrifying about him. I oddly felt okay with his presence. He gave me something bigger to think about than my self-pity. I wondered how many times he had seen me wailing, cursing the heavens for my misfortune because something about him told me it was not his first time there. Here was a restless spirit seeking the comfort of my secret pond and all I have done was disrupt that peace with my cries of self-destruction. The lump in my throat dissolved. My teary escapades saved for another day. But for that particular day... I walked home a changed man.
As my head touches the pillow,
