Of all the things I think about,
one that comes very often is the dark empty space,
a corridor that goes a long time back,
with memories getting hazy and blurred,
partly by time and partly by my memory,
darker and darker it gets,
there is no light at the farther end.
darkness where the life began,
darkness when the life will end,
in between is where we stand,
making it all worth,
trying to make it all worth,
wheeling in emotions and contradictions,
some from outside and some from within.
art of living,
art of surviving,
art of rising,
art of falling,
art of saying,
art of expressing,
art of loving,
art of knowing,
art of the endless search,
art of ending the search,
and the essence is the
art of searching the end.
