The Limbo Between The Flood and The Drought

Its dark around me but not pitch dark. The sky outside is not starry tonight. I can barely make out the shapes of the furniture cluttered in the room. Its all cluttered; the room, the mind the cry of the night-bird outside. I close my eyes with an utter sense of relief, trying to clear my mind, but somehow i can not forget the presence of breathing and heaving furniture all around me. I lean against a dust-covered table. The layer of dust feels like a smooth piece of silk velvet against my palms. I pull myself up and sit on top of the table.

Its time to exhaust my senses, I introspect. Exhaust myself to the extent that i know of nothing around myself but the mere existence of exhaustion alone. I keep my eyes wide open staring into a dark corner of the room, determined not to blink. slowly and gradually my mouth opens up to its full extent and inhaling and exhaling. Inhaling. Exhaling. Its drying up. My eyes are brimming up too.

I inwardly smile at myself thinking that though my mouth is drying up , my face is getting this abundant shower from the eyes, keeping it balanced. Keeping life balanced. Everything balanced.

Perpetual Rhythm

Clip clop clip clop clip clop! A long impending pregnant pause followed.

Knock knock. Pause. Knock knock.                                  

A long silence ensued and crickets chirruped somewhere.

Clip clop clip clop clip clop! The sound faded into the silence somewhere.

A crack in a door creaked open. Somebody was breathing heavily.

The door shut band and thudded in the threshold abruptly.

The crickets continued chirruping and humming to their own tune.