Sometimes we try too hard. That is because we think the thing we are doing, seeking, growing has a great potential. And then we become obsessed with that thought, that thing. We nurture that small sapling of the thought/ feeling/ thing. We water it every day. We dream it, breath it and live it. It is attractive when in full bloom, like a peacock dancing spreading its every feather, all alone in the jungle. And the reason it is breathtakingly beautiful is because it exists within us, deep inside. It is a thought that has not manifested itself. It is unpolluted by malignant reality. It is pure in its sheath, untouched by pointed queries of fellow humans and so is our lust for it. Nobody has any idea that something, almost forbidden, is sprouting inside us and that something knows no boundaries.
The paradox is, we feel complete only when the thing will express itself fully in broad daylight. We need to see it come to fruition, even when we are aware that as soon as it comes to reality, it will be marred by imperfections of our mortal world. That very effort to bring it to life, dooms us. It is over, it is gone.
I had to let go one such a thing I nurtured over time. It was the time. It wasn't going anywhere. It would only be dragged down and get soiled. So I had to let go....
Singing my blues.
