The blank page awaits me, to fill its emptiness with my thoughts. And I await something within me to urge me to write; and thus we are both companions in the waiting.
I catch random sound-waves hitting my eardrums from a distance, and realizations of the world around me hit my stream of thoughts. The sense of ‘self’ that I have been trying to make sense of for so long and shall forever keep trying, seems to dissolve each time; and then after a period of ambiguity, fortifies into a different solid form again.
There are more rules for radicals than there are for anyone else. The ‘non-conformists’ are the ones who actually believe in the feeling, doing and receiving that come along with the search for the truth; and that truth lays much hidden beyond the layers of clichés like realities of ‘society’, ‘religion’ (or more precisely, ‘religiously confused lot’), nationalistic ‘pride’, material ‘needs’ etc. etc.
The reason why I call them ‘cliches’ and term them ‘realities’ is the irony of the negligible presence of these two concepts themselves from the inverted (co(m)ma) words; i.e. There is no reality as such really in those inverted words!