The Spill

The mind overflows

merges , submerges,

holds up like a dam

And one day, escapes

trickling drop by drop

and then all at once

Gushing through a tiny pore

like a stream of thoughts

breaking free

into a puddle;

muddled

huddled

humming its way

into freedom of expression…

High on colours, sounds, lights

and life itself

Contained in a mere physical being-

the brain, that handles it with poise;

through nerves and transmitters

electrical and chemical gradients

Catering to its every tantrum.

The puddle picks up pace

and flows again

like a string of beads

or sand sifting through

palms of the hands

the mind absorbs, toys around

and lets go

of what was not meant for it.

of what it couldn’t assimilate.

of what it did not want to shelter.

The mind entangles

and then attempts to

free itself

from its own complication.

The mind knows not how to settle.

It questions its own existence

and slowly drifts into

space;

creating and recreating

its own niche.

This is where

it feels like home.

Trapped in thy own head?

The society hasn’t trapped you

Anymore than you have trapped yourself

In your own head

And if you’ve let society

dominate your thoughts

and take away your peace of mind

maybe it’s time to rethink

your way-

out of it

If you’ve given more power to their views

than your own wings

If you’ve traded their beliefs for yours

if you’ve let their confusion

wash away your ounces of clarity-

You’ve got to let go child

Of your illusion of perfection

because alas! they know what they know

And they don’t know much either

But you thought so.

You thought so as a child

You thought they had it all figured out

And they thought so too

When they claimed the Sun spun around the Earth

in circles

or that the Earth was probably flat

Like a plate maybe.

Your brain circled too

jumbling the narrative

that was spoon-fed into your neurons

and dissolved into your veins

until you couldn’t make out

red from blue

black from white

real from fiction

And you choked, nonplussed

on the piles of trash around you

on the screeching noise

the cacophony of distress

of random conflicting chatter

Gossips about how ‘naive’ you are

to think they were right

when all they knew was no better.

Switch

……

This ain’t easy

Switching from one thought to another

Jumping off

Landing, flying, crashing

Living on the edge .

The mind stretches

pains, endures

longs for rest

and then buds into

another stem,

catches another root

and springs into

an inflorescence.

And as dimension changes

So does the reality of being

So does personality

And everything that it believes in.

Sometimes,

I don’t know

who I am anymore!

Sometimes…

it feels great

to have tried a different path

At other times,

all the mind needs

is a little less change

a little less chaos

a little more direction

and the comfort

of knowing…

But when has life been so clear?

Life is never a charted path of security.

Rather those who choose security

Never get to explore

the beauty of spontaneity,

the mystery of the unknown

the power within

and reality -as a mere stretch of imagination.