Today as I stared into the hills ahead, I could feel the dew in the air descending across the landscape. The faint fragrance of the moist earth in the air created a nostalgic feeling that took me to days that once were. A battle arose from within myself, my will on one side and instinct on the other. Eyeball to eyeball against myself, I felt my existence being torn to pieces slowly and painfully from within. How I longed to escape from the past but in vain.
As I closed my eyes for a brief moment, I felt myself being sucked into a vortex of my own fears. The darkness in my eyes was replaced by a purple mist that forced my eyes shut for the longer period than one would normally keep them. But as soon as I opened them I saw myself in the same place that I was earlier. Normal as it may appear logically, but for once I felt a superior force transporting me as my eyes were closed. I was surprised yet relieved to be in the partial comfort that I took from knowing my whereabouts.
I raised my head slowly, to look at the hills ahead. The mist was fading away rapidly to reveal the landscape that I had spent my childhood within. The hills covered with grass that was green beyond comparison even though the trees around me were beginning to show signs of fall approaching. The colour of the leaves had slowly moved from bright green to a mild yellow, revealing what was inevitable.
I forwarded my hand to touch a leaf and as I felt the texture of the fractionally decayed leaf still blooming on the tree, I was gratified at nature\’s principle of support to the last moment and pitied the cynical and selfish attitude that exists between us.
It was at this point that I noticed an odd feeling gaining strength within me. Deja vu. I was in the middle of a process that was performing itself through me and even though I knew what would follow I was helpless against its force. I was merely a silent organ to the orchestrated execution of a script that had already been enacted.
Enslaved by the force I turned around to see my house in the distance. A beautiful oak cottage that I called home and had spent my childhood days in. I wept at the thought of what was to come, yet there was nothing I could do. I looked down on the first true sign of autumn, a dried leaf in the grass, and as I proceeded to lift it, I felt a drop of water on the back of my neck. It had started to drizzle. The leaf lay still in the moist grass that by now shone with droplets of water, it too giving a space to the win of freshness that had come through. The rain bringing a revelation of rejuvenation and rebirth, but the leaf has nothing to rejoice except the calm cool drop of water that had nestled upon it.
It was this moment that I dreaded the most. Slowly I raised my head to see what I hoped not to see, but what was there had to be seen. What had happened years ago could not be undone today. With tears in my eyes I saw my house aflame.
As the smoke rose in the wet air and the raindrops flew across it, I saw my dreams, aspirations, hopes and loves annihilate into the abyss and disappear forever. I was destroyed once again, once too many times. The pain and agony had by now become unbearable. What had to be done was beyond my capacity to comprehend. I stood there, silent as a statue, staring into the plumes of fire that rose from my dreamland. Motionless and weeping, I looked at myself. Bound by the frames of time I am restricted only to my own imagination. All else is just on the course of time. Unchanged, immovable and inscribed in to the tides of time.
I am but an instrument that is subjected to this incomplete cycle of action again and again, without purpose, without gain, without a reason. Yet I am where it wants me to be. A slave to time. We are told that we are only as strong as we aspire to be, but I hoped, dreamed and strived to escape this cycle of pain. Ironic, I am still here. Ironic, I know I will never succeed. Ironic, I still dream.