The timeless journey

Reads: 105  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
We are always in search of what we expect from our lives. But never have we tried to think what life expects from us. Does a journey always have to end into a destination? Does time manage to disappear every scar that it itself subjects us to? Perhaps not. Incidents may fade off with the rust of time, but memories remain etched on to our hearts forever. And these memories help us grow in strength, undoing every wound that life cuts into our souls.

Submitted: January 12, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 12, 2012



What do I write with a pen which fades away after etching a few thousand words on a piece of paper? How do I keep a paper as a memento of remembrance when it reaches the bottoms of the dustbin in no time? Leaves die with the adagio of time; flowers wither in the storm of ignorance. What then do I hold on to, when the world is full of things which are compelled to leave some day?


An encumbering weight burdens my chest, the pain is intense. But why do I have to be the only one to feel this pain? Why is everyone rejecting me like a bad organ transplant? Why does the feeling of obscurity sting my conscience day and night? I have no clue. The answers seem blurred in a mist of ignorance.

They say expectations hurt. They’re wrong. Expectations kill you slowly, making you realize how little you mean to the people who mean a lot to you.


Life has taken an unknown turn, and I don’t know where to go. I’m standing at an intersection, with so many untaken roads ahead of me, having no clue which one to choose. The only way I want to walk is walk back, to the place where I could make some repairs. But that road behind me is closed. There’s no looking back now. Gone are the days of ecstasy, and gone are those shades of freewheeling.


A new morning awaits me, as I duel to get past the shackles of abandonment. It’s not about the things now that my heart could do; it’s all about the things that it refuses to do. And I have to go on, until the scars of treachery are healed by the ointment of affection. I have to wait with stretched hands till the gaps between my fingers are filled by a soft caring hand. There’s so much to do and so much to get, I’m tired of walking this aimless journey. But I have to go on, because giving up is never an option.


The future is scary, but I can’t just run back to the past because it’s familiar. Yes, it’s tempting, but it’s a mistake. It’s more than time that I get a move on, try to negotiate with the shadows and still keep my own light burning.


The past was wet with tears of seclusion, but they have all dried up now. I am a hundred years older than yesterday, and time has camouflaged every wound in my heart. But sometimes, on a sleepless silent night, when her thoughts creep in stealthily in my mind, a tiny drop of tear walks out of my eyes and vanishes into an air of indifference. Yes, I cry in solitude, and my tears are the only friends that I’ve managed to hold on to. But in between the sniffles, when the cool night breeze ruffles up my hair gently, I drift along towards an age-old dream, a dream that is in my eyes since I had known to feel.


I sit and sigh as the euphoric scenes flash in front of my eyes, where I see her staring out of the window with her deep blue eyes, and sing to her in my black guitar. She listens intently to each word of my song and when I’m done, comes closer to me and places a moist kiss on my forehead.

All of this I want to be real, but for now, everything seems blurred in a mist of imagination.

No promise stands firm, no trust remains unbroken, only the dreams lay scattered like dead leaves of the autumn. And I drag my tired feet along, waiting for my time. Praying for today and dreaming for tomorrow, I keep walking, chasing the light at the end of the tunnel. I do not know where destiny has planned to end this journey, but my feet our suffering with the wounds of deception. I have walked a long way in hope for resurrection, and I have to walk on, until I reach the place which yet remains unrevealed.


And so I walk, on and on and on…..


I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how difficult my life is, I guess its time to spare a thought on how impossible it is…  



© Copyright 2018 Moyukh. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Booksie 2018 Poetry Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Moyukh

The dead side

Short Story / Horror

They never made it

Short Story / Action and Adventure

The awkward  moment

Short Story / Memoir

Popular Tags