离经叛道

Are we the aberrant ones derailing the Path and displacing the Faith?

Or are we seeking for breath when the “words of wisdom” fudge and nudge like invisible walls cave in?

Sticking head out of the deep water, beleaguered and delirious, tugged by a untelling past on the back of mind, yet forging a motion ahead. No matter north or south, only “ahead”.

An invincible shell, yet an empty bracket, a contentless soul. Loaded with common senses belying senses.

Shimmering passion slimmed and diluted with cautions and fears. Until it runs frayed and dried in an infinite playback of every ice-cold face and every condescended conversation.

Only then an adulthood scarred and lived, of its own volition, stripped off the steely camouflage, when the muffled pain and shame pierce through flesh and rip apart the void within.

Reshaped and refilled, at every disposal of fate, guided by a beam of inner light, fending off the almighty Right.

An emerging voice ringing in the head rises above all the odds, echoing through the fourth wall where the unspeakable past imposes. Did you hear the little child murmuring to the wall he cannot get it right? What if he is right? What if the voice never echos but is always there?

It probably takes a pursuit of sainthood to subject our minimal presence finally to something resembling greatness. But it takes much less than that and equally much more than that to claim and applaud its substance with heart, guts and dawning clarity, when everything is penned down and our playbook is shut and shelved.