My satisfaction ever after?

Lost. Lost was all I was. 

In the folds of my walnut brain

The indistinguishable twigs and stems of my veins

In the darkness that followed,

In the pool of blood,

On the skull space so hollow,

As I quiver mid-air as if shocked by the air - Lost.

Lost was all I was.

_____________________________________________________________________

 I knew deep down what direction was mine. What road had shone the brightest for me. What path was mine and what gave me more than what no money, power or status could ever amount into giving me - Satisfaction. The pleasure of being satisfied. 

But I also knew how hard it was going to be. How untraditional it was. That it will demand of me what no money, power or status could ever demand - Honesty. The honesty of hard work. The uncorrupted involvement of each and every cell of my body. And the honest emotions that would reflect in the heat of my face and the beating of my heart every time I walked that one true path that always signalled me towards it. 

But I was not ready. The path was giving by all means, but it asked for too much. In short, I am not a risk taker. I am not bold. I do not have the courage to give more than I can bet on taking back. Coward, I thought. Is that not what a coward means? 

For years, I veiled my cowardliness under the consolidation that it was shyness. Shyness. But the only times I questioned this notion was when I longingly gazed the path - the path that was for me.

It used to talk to me, only rarely, but in manners that made me aware of the vibration of every atom around me. Sometimes saying things that were too, too honest. And really real, too real to take.

It (the path) honey-whispered things to me,  

‘No’, was my only comeback.

I shied?

It talked.

‘No’, was my only thought.

It talks more when I am alone. Growing softer each time it calls me out.

Does the path you walk do that to YOU? 

Does it talk lovingly? In a way that reminds you of your mother's tender smile, or your younger sisters shimmering, naughty but pure eyes. Does it call you out in a way that shows consideration, consolation? 

Can a life choice do that? Has it ever done that to you, or am I the only lost stranger.

Does it smile without smiling? Call you to dance, when you both can’t? Summon a beast in you, the addict if you may, as if knowing your passion more than you realize it yourself?

‘NO!’ I shout.

The path… my sweet path, stays quite. Quite until I become quite enough to hear it again.

Is your path as patient? Does it give you the vibe of being your ‘satisfaction-ever-after’?

My humanly appetite asks more of it, much, much more. I ask of promises of comfort - the comfort of this world. The ease of being careless and carefree. Why is it disapproving of my weary complains and to the idea of giving up. Have I no right to lose it once in a while? Why do you swell on the idea of me hurt and tired?  Worn out and jaded, as exhausted as I can ever be. Why will you not allow me short cuts and ways that are easy? Why are you, my path, so stubborn on making it so damn hard? 

And there, it does it again - smiles without smiling. 

I stand - lost. 

Lost, as I always was.