It's that...

It's that state of mind, where thoughts are like the fragments of a torn love letter, slowly scattered by the unforgiving wind. And I, frantically reach out to every piece, an attempt to salvage every word, every phrase, every sentence so that Meaning might not be lost.

It's that emotional state, where emotions, of all colour and gravity, beg desperately for one's attention but like those colourful exotic birds we like to admire, we trap inside cages. Denying their freedom, suppressing their very nature to fly wild and free.

It's that state of being, where one is neither here nor there, stranded in a purgatory of sorts, where every prayer seems unheard and every question remains unanswered. How long do I have to knock before the door is opened? How long do I seek before I find it? How long do I asked before it is given?



I just need to know that You'll be there. Is that too much that I'm asking for?