Free Soul

He can make reality out of fiction and fiction out of reality leaving you wonder about the hidden truth. You just can't really judge him. You shouldn't attempt to. He is too many people in one person. You can't keep hold on to him for long. An artist is a free soul. A wanderer - but certainly not lost.

Wreck

I was too deep an ocean and you were too heavy to float. It caused you to drown. And that was the thing I was most afraid of. I thought you could sail or swim. But you didn't. You couldn't. You weren't even prepared to plunge. But you did and drowned. You took the risk. You couldn't measure the depth of my love. Now at the bottom of my heart you will remain buried forever, like a shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean. I was too deep for you. Sigh!

Change

Winter is almost gone and the Spring is coming. Seasons change and they leave us sick. Maybe because we get so used to some things that their absence makes us restless. And this is true with people too perhaps. They change and leave us sick.

Poetry

Mind so restless,
Heart hiding volcanoes,
Soul under the load of sins.
Then to the rescue of all three,
There comes an art form,
From God's divine territory,
To release what lies underneath,
And they call it poetry.

The Philosophy Class

He was new to his philosophy class.

"What do you want to do before you die?", professor asked.

"I want to live."

"That's so obvious."

"That's not obvious professor, that's oblivious. Not many people do this, I guess. They just breathe in and breathe out."

The professor learnt new philosophy of life. His questions ended.

P.S. - For other posts of the 55 Fiction series, please click here.