Days have passed with the same old breeze knocking the doors. They have no new news to give. Just a wish to share this early morn! It has become a familiar routine. The breeze in the morn. The breeze, waving at you each day. The days looked alike.
A call from a less familiar number. You don’t require to change anything else, to make the morning different. The familiar voice had just a different tone. “Call her. Now. Call”.
The voice was vacant. It required no words. The silence in it spoke all the words that you need not hear. The few words that came were- “Come to me. To us”.
To be there is bad. But to not be there is worse. Strange thoughts of fear, engulf the mind like a plague. Shrinking the mind to a devil’s workshop. Thoughts forming awkward shapes on air. On the walls around. On the sky. Time and space never melts away. They stand, immortal, not bothered about the emotions within. Patience, they say, is a virtue. All talks of a happy mind!
I needed to get there, to be with them. I go off. I go off. My world was never hear. I float away to be with them. I go off… I go off…
[Just had this idea, on thoughts of a troubled mind]