The chorus of discursive fragments pause little longer than expected
Their unabashed lingering does not yield any powerful discourse
Sifting among the strewn frustrate the eagerly seeking hands
Only a handful of dust and crusts of incoherent meanings
As if under a mysterious spell, the wayward wandering, fondness for veering off
Yelling at the day won’t upset it, but the mind will feel agitated
At the brink of some unknown territory after a journey of unmindfulness
The voices of those fragments now cohesively sound like white noise
Shrapnels of instructions maniacally unfreedom the choices of life
Battling with the air and Earth is the unnatural nature of distinct turmoil
The chorus grows bigger than the scope of plotting the escape
~Amitav
Erase who we are, we might get back to who we were.
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You have said it profoundly. The extrinsic influences we have to let go to synchronise with the inner beliefs.
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Unfreedom, yes.
Can we ever break free? Maybe truly in our heads only.
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If we truly belive in our head, I feel we can revolutionise thinking and indeed change the pattern.
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I believe in insticts. If we’re able to let go and
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You have a talent to put the dissonance and the cacophony in our lives in your beautiful words.
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Thank you so much, Megha.
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My pleasure Amitav
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