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richasmukherjee.com

love, laughter, pain, joy, life and its lessons, one word at a time

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Passage

They are restless, simmering, bubbling, they will come

They are forgotten, buried, snowed under, they will breach the surface , they will come

They are prisoners of time, daily rigours and chores, but they will come

They are burdened with doubt and fear and restraint, the shackles will fall, they will come

Amidst the noise, the chaos, the walls closing in, a tiny clear voice will emerge, they will come

Like the torrential rain, like a searing unstoppable pain

Like a dead even bloody bout where there’s no loss or gain

In an impenetrable wordless darkness where not one shard of light can prick through

My resilient nameless army of words will march, they will come.

Bare


What if you were asked to show your real self? Express your true feelings. Be who you really are. 
Without any masks, without any make up, without any excuses.

Isin’t it scary?

That when every layer is peeled away, like an onion, what you might be left with, could be something pungent and not pleasant.

That when the veneers are gone, you might not even recognise yourself.

They say truth is liberating.

But sometimes it shackles you to the ground. You want to hope, you want to gallop but no matter how hard you pull away, you are what you are.

What will he think? Will I be slotted a fool? Or worse, will I be ostracised?

The truth is they will never know.

Because we do a fantastic job of cloaking ourselves.

Because the world outside the cloak is unknown and too scary.

Manners, social lies, sarcasm,excuses, take a pick and call them what you may

I am certainly no one to preach , but in some eyes, I have seen the serenity of a deveined and de shelled world, that doesn’t have to keep up appearances.

Certainly looks like a peaceful, tranquil place to be.

Is there some such tranquility in store for me?

Only time will tell.

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