Living on the Edge

It’s a strange dance that consumes me from head to toe. The ballet moments are fast-paced, the jazz is of a rhythmic slow pace. A tramp soul has possessed my body. In late evenings it takes me to the terrains of trance. Unlike what metaphysics would describe, noise fills the air.

Image Courtesy: Jordan Matter

You’d try to block the clatter. You’d press your hands so close to your ears that the drumming sound cosmic pulse of life that was first conceived when, at your birth, your heart got a beat to remind you of your life-purpose. I’d forgotten the rhythm beating within since I set my mind on completing the chase.

I was sedated and spell-bound with the rat-race. I’d never known where to end my search – for I’d never know what was I searching for. There was nothing that I longed for. May be it was the longing to long and be longed for that sowed a seed of temptation in me.

A virginal perspective of worldly affairs had for decades kept be aloof and isolated from matters other than metaphysical. I’d never lived as a social butterfly. I was immune to the paranormal and allergic to the normal since the very beginning of my earthly adventures.

Jordan Matter

I was trying to give up my wings. I was trying to live the life that stared me right in my face. Every time I’d be close to giving up, the tramp soul would catch hold of me. It would grab my hand and take me to the platform where it all began. The shadow of the blue-eyed magician still appeared on the floor of station. It would whisper a spell to me and leave. I’d be then reminded of my reality.

Jordan Matter

Slowly I was losing out on my truth. Which side did I belong to? The tramp made me do a dance to get me smiling. I was reluctant but I retorted with the dance of patience. I lay close to the edge, where I could hear the sounds of the two worlds as one. On the edge, everything seemed to be going in a linear motion – nothing was spiral. I’d lie there for hours, in the hope to end the dance of patience. The tramp gave up on me soon. He’d rather be with someone willing to just dance. I lost on the dance, he lost on the patience!!

Shivangi

Shivangi

Some girls are made of sugar and spice and all things nice. Others, like me, are red haired, raw, and quite plus sized. Read my work on food and fashion on this blog.
Shivangi
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