Tryst with the passion
Tryst with the passion
It was drizzling outside
Room was completely dark
The street light was glimmering on the road
A tiny segment of that light was entering into the room
I was on the bed being motionless, destination less and aimless
A gush of wind rushed through the window and engulfed the bookshelf
Books were silently observing the pain of my failure soul
As despite their best support I could not be a successful person
I failed everywhere
Every failure flashed before me
I was releasing the grief adorned breathes
Instantly a piece of paper flew towards me and fell on my heart
When I listened the rustling sound I felt the presence of that
I tried to recognise the piece of paper and read that
I could not make out the writings
But subsequently I reminisced the memory
When I was at the age of 11
I had written that poem which had deep emotions
But that had not been written with utmost perfections
It had errors, spelling mistakes and ambiguities
But still it explored my passion to write
I realized one thing that I had completely erased my passion to write due to my madness for a job
I kissed that piece of paper showering my all affections
My heartbeats became faster
Unknowingly that drew tears from eyes
Since that moment I again commenced my journey to write
And took the determination to shape my identity through writing
And again embraced that piece of paper and heaved a sigh of relief after years of pain.