Midnight Meditations on Mortality
Majestic Dhauladhars. Enveloped by serene darkness. The air? — Filled with the enchanting melodies of cicadas and frogs, blending into a symphony of night sounds. It is a moment of solitude. A moment of self-reflection, and reflection about the world.
And I don’t know why, or from where, the idea of Mortality takes root in my mind. It intertwines with my every thought, even though I try to resist it. I resist it first. But then I let it remain; and grow. I enjoy it.
The concept of Mortality looms over my psyche like an ancient, weathered tree — its gnarled roots reaching into the depths of my subconscious. Its weight takes a toll on me and causes a throbbing ache — fueling an inferno of introspection within.
Varied ideas bubble in my cauldron mind. They simmer with existential questions and profound uncertainties. The flames dance and flicker. They cast eerie shadows on the walls of the cave I live in — my mind — and distort my perception of reality. The heat becomes unbearable. It serves as a visceral reminder of the urgency to confront these ambiguous musings.
Musings — which serve as a poignant reminder of the delicate balance between existence and oblivion.
We are all fragile beings. Aren’t we? Like Euglena in a hay fusion, we are insignificant. Like delicate porcelain, we navigate a world that teeters on the edge of chaos. The universe is uncaring. It can abruptly plunge into a haunting silence. Thup. And then nothing. All our worries whoosh. Symphony of existence done with. An abrupt end. Just like that.
Words, like a buoyant vessel, carry emotions and ideas. But in this moment, they drift on the surface of my consciousness like ghostly apparitions. They flutter like fragile butterflies — evoking fleeting yet profound sensations. And as I write these words, each one becomes a brushstroke. A dubious brushstroke with an invented meaning on the canvas of my thoughts.
The words bear the weight of a thousand emotions. A thousand unspoken emotions and arguments. And thus, in a way, they lighten my load. But then, ultimately, they dissolve into the void — their true meaning lost. In the vast expanse of human experience.
