Man With The Third Eye

I saw a trinity of vision numbering infinity. Well, quaint for me as well to measure the plethora of counting ending up in this occupied circle of possibilities. This is quite astonishing every time I reciprocate it to myself and for the first time sharing it to the world, He is mine and yes he is.

So, let me introduce you to him.

He is the origination to the route to this world not for me or you but for us like a wave turning up itself filtered every time ashes atrophying into his head.

He begins from the whole number and lasts till eternity and of course, it has tranquillity for those who count from the positive integers and annihilation for the minus widdershins of figures.

They are written with peculiar inks on a transparent paper making it colourful with different shades and I choose red. He wrote it with concealing grace subject to the zone of appropriate amalgamation of thoughts, emotions, affection and peace.

There was a time when everything had a system posturing his rules whenever the lower portion of earth conspired something for the clouds because he promised to protect me “The curtain of mist”. After all, being the perfect partner was not an obvious task for everybody because there is nobody like him. We were the pioneers of true love and relationship.

He wore half attire and I was a full bride,

we concluded Ourselves when we embraced each other’s flaws and fates.

Vivacious and Strong enough to destroy the worst and save the best yet he questioned the wisdom of every individual. If we will be given a chance to occupy anybody’s mind losing our, what will we be doing? In a run to snatch the intellectual piece albeit we didn’t know about the productivity of self. One such day, he left me solace to see my ultimate version.

I was in trouble and he refused to help to throw sarcasm over my gender “Jab bhi ek stree mushkil mein hoti hai toh Purush ke paas madad ke liye kyu aati hai?” and I truly became a woman that day because I learnt a new Identity of being a dark fearless warrior but when I began swallowing all the red coloured liquid dripping off the rotten heads, he told me the radiant and vile scenario’s of red colour redacting my wedding regalia also making me aware of so many chimeras to paint this world:- Anger, Pleasure, Intelligence, Pain, Sacrifice and etc. where anger being the fragile and pain a constant.

Anger is like a perfume that is to be used in a quantity only when the aroma needs to be refreshed otherwise it can cause harm to your breathe.

Pain is equal to intake oxygen; it is as relevant as living because it swipes the good out of bad while we try to jump on the former hill.

Beneath this protocol, he made me red from black and black from red.

Now, I am a soul, sturdy, sufficient to surrender and scented sugar solving the abyssal Caustic depending upon the meal served.

I am an image that reflects a lot, a lot about him, a lot about you, a lot about them and a lot about life kept in his diary because he believed in something I had and everything I didn’t. I am him and he is all about me, all about you, all about them and all about this universe.

He is Shiva and I am Parvati.