Catapulted

Catapulted into an Unending Storm
Mirages are deceptive. So are distant blur of late night smog on the neon lit streets of Mumbai. Mirages are dreams. Dreams swim on the waves of constant undulating plains – of emotions, of sensibilities. Down into the dark blue depths one moment and cresting through the glistening froth afloat on the moonlit ocean in the next.

I let go of my heavy, laden body. I let go of my burdened shoulders. I let go of my loneliness, my fears, my pleasures, my symphonies, noises crowding around in mind. I see myself over and above, floating – a charmed existence amidst such plentiful, unbound world full of life.

My picture becomes clearer; the edges grow sharper as it dissolves in the dream. The dream of a dark blue ocean that envelops, embalms me under the shroud of a full moon night. I feel warm in the cold confines of the unfathomable ocean. I feel cared for, I feel safe.