Prompt: A Beautiful Mind #napowrimo
Objective: To differentiate the real from
the seemingly real
The axiom states that ‘ You cannot, never completely ‘
All understanding of truth
is but a construction
of like-minded beings,
with a set of senses, perception and thought processes
Make a dot. Replicate it. Grow it like gaseous stars in the womb.
Join them. Crosses, fires, and lights. A network. A mesh.
Build an image of life as it for others.
Sketch an amorphous floating sphere around it and
term it as ‘ normal ‘.
The ‘normal’ is your first definition of real.
A tether. Grow a wire. Straight from the pulmonary matrix.
Let it waver. It is a stem. A sapling. It has its own motion.
Do not take control. Let it be.
Let it attach. To the closest manifestation of love around you.
A form, a person, a language, a color, a feeling. Make it stay.
Caution: Feelings can be faulty. They do not differentiate between cinema and life. They pretty much do not care.
Count the hooded figures. Their enormous voices. The galloping stride of panic in your chest. Take a needle and start sewing around it. It’s a futile movement. Do it anyway.
Revisit the numerous places of death.
Of agonizing two-headed conversations. Of liver green gardens swathed in red. Remember. Count. Notice. Detect. Make a list.
There is a common ground to each. Find the plot hole. Bleed into it. Make it yours. This is the list.
The symptoms of illness. Of the attack.
Make it your armor. Know when it arrives. Greet it like a passer-by, it’s not an enemy. Do not mistake it for a friend either.
Pain. Pain is inevitable. Learn to ignore it. Pain is also a construction of the mind. Distract yourself.
Beauty. Beauty is unafraid. She doesn’t fail to penetrate the thick membrane of your flesh even in defeat.
The trees will occasionally stir like music and the starry night shall curl inside your lashes. The wind will blow straight into your mouth and build conical streams of oceans and seas.
Beauty is your pillow. Fall asleep on it. Never wake up.
Love. It is not a real word. A real word has a definition. (Funny that I should use the word ‘ real ’ here.) Love is a plane. Multiple planes, volume. Love is unguided. Floating. It is not a feeling. Nor a sensation. It is not a person or a face.
It is a current. It is the strongest within. Let it course through.
Offer it. Exchange it. Receive it. From the thin air. Like birds into your cave of arms. Make a nest for yourself. As long as you can return here you will never truly be lost.
And you will be able to find a definition of ‘ real ’ for yourself.
An unreal but fitting definition. A personal definition.
Keep it safe.
It varies for every individual. Feel free to ignore all of the above.
Image and prose © Aakriti Kuntal