"Human limbs are the best part of human beings." This is an antique adage, which I found today after having delved into a moth-eaten and crinkly book, written and edited by Archeopteryx!
Boyo! I cracked a joke indeed. I did crack the joke with a view to pasting some sort of loud laughter on the dried lips of blogizens, methinks, who, broken into fragments, have lost the art and colours of smiling. I will shoulder a solemn responsibility to unite the broken colours.
For the last couple of days, I have been morose, though having no suitable reason behind to be resulted in such a state - I have been in a belligerent mood, though getting no wind of unadaptable conundrum - I have been phlegmatic, though having had a hard turf of emotional battle prepared!
I don't know exactly why the moon is too rigid to come out and why my mind is still slurring a musical note in a cerullean gasping.
I felt to move a lot, still I couldn't budge an inch. I left for me one hundred opportunities to go severally. I felt to place an exchange offer with my entire being. Who will exchange it or what will somebody exchange - is beyond my understanding. I tried to move away from the chair, but the chair cemented my under-abdomen part to its lap. Find a laptop in front of my old and busty computer was any way wagging an indecent proposal.
Still I sat for hours together to get rid of my morose.
Morose! Is it time to get another political birth?
Morose! Is it a leeway to a belligerent state?
Morose! Is it a recess before turning over a new leaf?
Ooph! I must get rid of this riddle of mind. I know I need to focus on what my part is, and leave the rest in capable hands.
Thinking hard and harder - saw an anthropologist working on inside me.
I went indoors, sat on a morah, and saw him handling some elements, definining and redefinining the mystic relationship between human beings and the natural world outside, that is, Mother Nature.
I tore myself off the room like a withdrawal slip.
The universe is a place where nobody can stay morose, belligerent for a long time. The more it is named universe, the more it is renamed variety. Our body is a resting place of the universe. The little molecules move like planets, satellites, comets, asteroids and many unknown beings.
Where have I come from?
Where shall I go to?
Am I unborn tomorrow?
Am I a particle, which is reborn every day?
The series of questions first chased me like a wild animal. Thereafter, they gnawed into my being. Finally, it breathed heavily after having me separated from I, myself, from me, and me, from the universe.
And that's why I was long in search of an anthropologist. And I found him today in the I of me! He went on confiding in me the very secrets of Nature.
Human beings are born free (quite unnaturally), but everywhere they are in chains (quite naturally). They are pawned only to Nature, they are rooked only by Nature, and are they castled only in Nature.
We share organs and limbs of hers.
And Nature is nothing but a 'she', who can womb the warmth of life with a breathing ball - a breathing ball of sense - a sense that is "being alive".
A piece of stone and a flower produce life! The force and the flaccidity groove a way, together, to touch the origin of species.
He shrilled out, "Nature = Mr Homo Sapiens"
I tore myself off the room like a withdrawal slip.
I left the stinking stockings of morose and learned how to dishearten all of my depressions from the liquid flow of life, - inside, blood being the representative of the phrase, and outside, river being the representative of the same.
1 comment:
Interesting
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