Echoes of beasts through the dark valley mark the hollowness left behind by the slumbering world of life while winds stop to rustle leaves as if caring for the maestro to ink down undisturbed and the sky grows darker still watching over the peaceful bliss of the late hours.Time seems to have stood still and the universe is all gathering around the trembling yellow of the lamp to peep into the words of the old bearded maestro who pens down his final thoughts on life. Murmuring tall grass by the streams seem overwhelmed by the news delivered by the winds and bend to propagate the message to the waters to slow down as the maestro writes..the maestro writes!
But what is it that the old man fails to ink down.The magnitude of the meanings fail to sink down.Is it the hope of the endless world that awaits him or the agony of falling to his own expectations to write down the masterpiece.It was no surprise to him that death was nearing and all his life his writings were a harbinger to the dimensionless souls yet this was supposed to be the moment of an art , a master work in his last writings to the world.Covered in a cloak, an old wrinkled hand reaches the paper but the pen fails to deliver the final thoughts, unnerving the air around that starts to gush through the window carrying message to the pitch dark of trembling hands and second thoughts yet the valley replies with confidence to await as the maestro writes.the maestro writes!
Taken back into the past life,the old man sees his love,though ages old the freshness stays..He wonders if it is ultimately love that dictates his last message to humanity and the lid of his pen touches the page exciting the candle that starts swinging its luminosity to the very peak but to no conclusion for the maestro just remembered betrayals and rage.Betrayal of the omens and rage of fate. The pen sinks back once again into the cloak, turbulence growing all around as the night starts to lose patience and winds begins to sway the tall grass destroying the very calm that was set through anticipation.Anticipation that knowledge would once again be showered upon the world because the maestro writes...the maestro writes!
Time is running out and the first light of dawn is not faraway. The sky jitters in chagrin for by now the master should have come out and delivered his last words.The mind of the old man,however, was far more shaken due to his self made assumptions to create a lasting work. But then again,there was a reason why they called him maestro. It dawned upon him that writing in itself was an art that required no masterpiece but the expression of what mind could not decipher. So the old man puffed his last smoke and wrote the last message of his life..
My dear world! As much as I wanted to behold in front of you the lessons through my life,I ignored the very fact that life is an endless journey of discovering knowledge at every turn.And though I foolishly thought that I had a grasp over life , life still managed to open my heart to yet another lesson at the very end of my age. Life is as simple as we make of it.We humans are funny animals.We learn to float in happiness yet always drown in the sea of our own self created expectations for in life you can never get satisfaction and hopes fulfilled at the same time.There is a balance that maintains the universe. The parity between winds and water,the sky and the earth, the love and the rage, the normal and paranormal and above all is the equity between hope and expectations.Learn to float in satisfaction than drown into your very own created hell.That sums up my journey.Now you discover yours...
The universe grew tranquil once more as if the message was being absorbed. The surroundings witnessed another balance..as the old man closed his eyes forever while the world opened its eyes to a new day.. A new life..