Musings...

Something queer about the mind’s ways….
That dwells solely on the brighter tones
Of something that ends forever,
However far and few they might have been…
Paints it in a hue that camouflages the gaping holes,
The overbearing darkness.
As if just by fading out of life,
The past has gained an enhanced value.
There is something about nostalgia..
That acts like a sieve, a color filter.
Through which only bright spots can permeate.

But then, from time to time…
The sieve gives way, and the darkness
That was entangled with the pleasure, surfaces up.
With it, the biting, stinging sensation.
What’s this need to hold on to a snippet of the past,
That has turned so corrosive?
Is it fear of the abysmal void
That is created when you let go
What had so long taken up a prime spot in the mind?
An emptiness more wretched
Than the most painful of sensations?

At times it is easier to derive strength out of pain
Than out of the vacuum that its elimination leaves behind.