Quarterly Life Audit

"As the oak gets older its origin reminiscences, that majestic oak was once a nut that stood his ground"

Journey begun two and half decades ago seem much longer than it actually was. Life begins to lack luster, like the rusting edgeless knife, It is quarter life crisis! while I am gradually stepping from first quarter to the second. There was lot to look back and learn from, Looking back, It anin't far from where it started. I am thinking aloud, rather forced to do so. Rarely I believed in planning my life, as always I dared as it came. I've steered my living so far my way. It has sped at different paces (Top gears at times!). I am among ones who believe that "brakes are for cowards ". Fortunately, I had no chance to step on them until now.

Above thoughts meandered within self, while weekend evening sun was crawling through the tangent bars of the only window in my 10 X 9 ft bedroom. Fading red and purple hues of setting sunlight made innumerable murals on fresh white sheets of my bed. My eyes quirkily locked onto the evening art, my river like tear pockets seem ed abundantly blessed. Without any emotional stress, suffering or physical pain salty lakes began flooding . Sudden annoying buzz distracts my muse. A tiny bee honey drunk! He was bumping into plastic evening primrose placed in vase that was on the wall mantel. I watched him closely while he buzzed around the room. His hopeless bee flight to enter the fake flowers carpel's amused me. Probably he is blind, must have lost his sense of smell as well. He didn't discern quintessence of natural beauty over the bright yellow feign. Unregretful, his quest continues. Wee little bee waged his relentless war to un-flower suncups to feast on the non-existent honey, never did he scorn those war bruises. I couldn't help but see myself embodied in him. Mine was none less flight than his.

What is left of me now is just bitter contriteness. Dreams to grow old with that someone special was mine too. Nevertheless, that was just a dream, before destiny chose that special one for me. I yearned to inquest on my own, I was no saint who waited for a chance, I believed in creating my own. Madness invoked to be self reliant, independent and free led to desire without reason. One of those morphed red evening was slipping into wicked darkness, yet another lecherous moment of my young life, a demonic desire, ceaseless fleshly prodding which needed to be gratified. I was just like that un-slaked bee. Unmistaken coitus occurrence with my Aphrodite doused my insatiable urge that sacrilegious moment; this instance thrust me closer to the grim reaper. Lest did my contagion knew that she had bestow me deepseated malady (I was chosen by destiny to be poisoned).

I became aware of this canker only when I was closer to bid adieu to fulfilled quarter of my life.while I'm doing a quarter life audit, that's when I realized that scourge-less quarter of life was largely spent being a child, a teenager, an adult growing, learning, earning, sharing, caring, traveling, winning and losing etc very mundane. However, most of what I made out of it was just questioning, wondering, dreaming and scheming about how ideal my life would've been. I seldom planned my life. Cause plans were made to execute. My dreams were mere fantasies without execution. In these last few days, all I wanted to do was to enumerate life so far, take stocks. (Not in a clichéd mythical format) It was not to measure my vices and virtues. It was not to question the worth of my existence on this blue planet over a quarter. Without regret, it was a fresh perspective to residue of life . - He who dared life in its eye, as long as he lasted; { These were the last few words from "K" while AIDS blighted him at the Age of 28!}

Green -EYE- effect

Light in the west begins to fade, tangent sparks slowly
Strewn on the smudging dark canvas

brain thrusting n throbbing to be numb,
From the deepest corners I hear voices murmur

some yell and holler, some sigh in remorse,
Some are quiet while their silence speak, rest mutter.
It was your idea to place me in juxtaposition
You made me realize I'm an outcast and where I belong
Should I have not known? You have a mind of your own.

Lest did I realize that it is my own feeling of how you would think of me
Now that Don Juan un-possessed me and has deserted my soul
My obsession has thrown me off guard. I was blind to see you scorn

like a lover who feels mortal while his love is not returned
I curse and rebuke at my own naiveté
My bloody self feels like a victim to an unknown sting
No more, I don't intend to be that irritant speck in your eye,
That wee little dust which sought its way,
While you dared storm in its face with our eyes wide open.