Ceasing Words

Words, words everywhere and not one seems so right. I know; blame it on the age, the mix of idealism and hormones tempered by booze perhaps? Or the sheer absurdity that things are. But the words are never sufficient enough to express the state of mind; agreed, its pretty close but there is always something missing.

Every song I hear, every story I read, the lyrics, emotions that run on my sleeve and a quixotic heart give me impetus to write. I know there is something stirring; perhaps a symphony? But no, the words just do not do justice to the thought, to the immensity of the idea.

What, next? Perhaps I could try going a notch lower and just aim to get the flow going. A look at the blue sky and the ever changing cloud forms? Or the cool breeze coming through the window and the beautiful girl sitting beside the window? Or the silhouette imprinted in my memory of the one that got away?

Some random lines emerge; albeit painfully. The pen treads with caution lest the flow is stopped but still the verses look bland, empty and meaningless with a compulsion to rhyme.

"Oh the blue sky
And a bird so high
The wind so blows
And beauty it shows"

Damn, this is not what I want to write. Yes, i know they are rhyming and may pass off as some form of petry, but??? Brings me back to the original emotion, the stirring and the passion. Almost universal emotions and what can i write more? Every heartbreak has had a song and encounters of passion are plenty. is there something new I can add and something that can be a creation of beauty?

Perhaps, i can write about me. But then, that would be a memoir. Damn, it would take a lot of time to write. Besides, who would want to read my memoirs anyway? Not even me, at least not now.:)

The words are ceasing. Time now then to abandon the books; for everyone of their creators had their own world to see. Time to see the world, with a keener eye, observe and feel and then perhaps words will be enough to describe these feelings, to ascribe them some value and meaning.

Till then
The sky is still blue
Have not yet found a clue
To differentiate my emotions
Into disparate shades and hues