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Glimpses of Time

I walked into the library today, and among the aisles of books, both young and old, I heard chatters of characters and legends. Funny, maybe it's a personal liking, but if there is one (among few) places that I feel alive, it would be the library. My face twisting to fill every crevice and lines and tangents where the titles flow, my brain capturing the invisible fog of stories and poetry, the fingers running through time eaten pages, where voices of the dead speak. They were alive to watch history unfold, to preserve the linearity of time and yet to embark on a cultural explosion so that we can tell from one another, the passionate ethos of humans to seek out and painfully cut off the urges to look in. They tell the stories of why battles with destiny are won only if we can destroy pagan symbolisms and fake sages whom have lived over their time. And why colors look better on flowers rather than lustful silk wrapped on mere mortals who are due for a reset. Death and life, joy and pain, passion and heroism, heroes and legends, these books wraps our mind with friendly reminders that there are those who sacrificed blood for a continuity of our savage civilization, but only because they knew that we would outlive this lust and be one with the fabrics of time.

Why in these moments of passionate admiration for the millions of pages among millions of books I come across ideas and then the next moment I come across pretenders who just want to end time fast. There were days when they tell that we cant and dont know how to spend time, when they move time faster, as if time itself has been bribed with the forbidden fruit of immortality. Time moved faster yesterday, and today. The cruel fate befallen on my comrades, the observers and forgivers. We eat your sins for you, we dont sleep at nights for you, we kept a candle light vigil because you deserved a life and we are the foundation. These pages serve millions with milk and food and spirit, the geist of knowledge permeating our cells and aura.

The specks of star dust, fell aeon's ago on this unforgiving land, which remained turbulent, and we still wrote stories for publishers of the neo modern age, where information became cycles of redundant imaginary follicles whom they who master aims to organize. Datum, coda, tempus, fugit, foundation, ghosting your imaginations of super futures where they claim we are fine and well, when the melting ice did not participate in any seminars of global warming, haven't you got a clue you idiots because you are quantifying the surface and not the workings. But this universe dont want you looking at the workings, for its results are grander. But it made a mistake in creating you, the man and mind and machine who one day manages to scrap away your layers of particle to reveal your heart.

What pragmatism that lead to this day where we can read of tales heartwarming and days descending into hell in the same pages of news? Didn't history teach enough to tell that violence doesn't form a society already fractured because its spirit has been exhausted by commercialism and emotional savagery. We live to see you die. We live to see you born, and love, and die. These constant cycles of imagery running on the surface of a placid lake where I am sitting now and looking at the moon reflections and distant campfires and castles. I am alive here. Lets go, lets live in this island of ours, in this library. I will tell you of the future someday. But maybe you wont be alive then. I am a tour guide you see, of the future. For now, we sleep and for tomorrow, we wake to a new future.

Comments

Kavi said…
The pretenders will be. The beauty in the pages are more important than the falsehood of the pretenders !

"For now, we sleep and for tomorrow, we wake to a new future". How powerfull...
Pauline said…
Let me sign up for this library card and reap the benefits of its fury, its calm, its hope, its future!
I applaud this piece, and thank you...
Keshi said…
I hate libraries...only cos I dun like reading all that much :) Not anymore.

Keshi.
Another thoughtful post from you after a long time. Keep posting, ghost.

And keep visiting too..:D
tulipspeaks said…
u r chosen for an award. check out my bloggie.

btwn i love libraries.. probably u alredi know by now ;)


ammu.

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...you

for, its during the rainy seasons
when we sit admiring
the cool breeze and wandering droplets
we realize we are admiring the beauty of loneliness
from afar, of you and me

[feast]