… only something that has no history can be defined - Nietzsche
The alchemy of mixed emotion is driving me back to home. The route is intensely packed with the viruses of temptations which distract me from the very destination which I am seeking since the birth of my conscience. The word ‘Home’ always make me cynical about my sense of belonging. The perplexed question for me is the question of belonging. Where do I belong? I don’t know what deserves to be known or claimed as home. Will ‘ I’ be considered as homeless till I discover ‘The Home’ for my ‘self’ – the self which always seek home for eternal serenity. In this unknown journey towards the eternity the self of mine remains an object of anxiety and melancholy whose subject is skeptically clouded with optimism. Amidst the time of travel, home of mine is the heart of the beloved – the source of distant yet closest affection, which is powerful enough to make me insanely conscious
wired in the same old question
which is rooted in history
history which is rooted in us
we come out of history
and history comes out of us
life is simple or complex
its history and historic
but simplicity of life
is in the complexity
and complexity is simple
if 'we' create history
a simple story will be written
in most complex fashion
the story of our love is
simplest of emotion
and complex in reaction
... and hence continues my travel towards the destiny of simplistically complex love ...
3 comments:
A well written post...easy to understand...but complex in nature...
Love would always seem simplistically complex unless it is weighed down by responsibility. Responsibility gives meaning, essence and shape to the ever complex love.
beautifully written. Like it.
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