Thursday, December 27, 2012

Imprisoned in time



We are locked up between our past and future? Or do we take free rides to and fro? No, we pay, we pay with words. Am I a cynical explorer? I only ask? But what can give my words any certainty? Not punctuations for sure, to hold them in place and not fall apart? Punctuations do not punctuate enough. Boom! An explosion attacks my words. Oh what a timing! They have lost their memory and form in an irreversible manner. How do we put them together now? They are shaking, trying to regain composure. They feel several things at the same time and cannot decipher. But they cannot die. They are slaves of someone's memory.


Saturday, December 8, 2012

Oh 'reality', who are you?

With the sense that many of us refer to reality differentiating it from it's opposite (whatever that is), mostly referred to as imagination(?), we seem to see clear lines between the two. It's as though 'reality' is that which is enforced on us while 'imagination' is what we think about it.