i cry when i'm happy

It seems I’m a lonely island of materialistic prosperity admist the ocean

of poverty. But I’m not an illusionist. Even, I’d be an illusionist, I’m sure – I wouldn’t know the difference between magic & illusion. I’m shrewd but still not dexter. I’m alacritic but languish. I’m tied in the manacles of my own principles – I get caught in the net of my own thoughts.

It follows like I’m not a blossomed flower; or rather I just can’t blossom to my fullest. No doubt, time is the ultimate elixir, but, the consequences that follow are never ephemeral. Still I can’t figure out, whether I know my limits. If I would be knowing it, than and only can I say that I’m not at my fullest. I find myself, biased with some indelible nets of thoughts, struggling really hard to set free and praying to god – I wish I’d remember Tennyson’s those lines –

Leave the cage, go, fly high,

It is your day, touch the sky.

Twenty years down the line, I dream that every barrier shall be vanished, every valley shall be exalted and every mountain & hill shall be made low, the rough places shall

be made plain, and the crooked places shall be made straight, and the glory of the lord shall be revealed and

all flesh and bone shall see it together – this, you can say as my hope; my meaning of freedom. And freedom comes from distinct & indelible hard work. So let the hard work flow, let the hard work go, make

it your say, make it your word.

Let the freedom flow from each and every corner of your existing surrounding. Let the freedom of your materialistic prosperity gloom and your happiness blossom to fullest,

as of mine – so I cry – c’est la vie.

The problem with me is, I’m the mortal who indulge in the illusions of hope. No doubt – we’re apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth and wide open for using a wand; this is transforming me into a beast; every thing happens exponentially. I personally do not believe in avalanche, but saturation do exist. But I’m not mean, though. But, am I disposed to be of the number of those, who having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things so nearly concern my temporal salvation? For my part, what ever anguish of spirit may cost, I’m willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide my whole for it; in order to blossom to my fullest, till the end of life – without elixir of life – but through determinations – Que Sera Sera.