The Wind Speaks

WIND(W): I'll always be there for you.
FLAME(F): But I won't be there. You can extinguish me anytime.
W: But I wouldn't do that. I wish you were a forest fire, I'd spread you around and maybe we could talk then...
F: Oh? You would cause so much of destruction, and pollute yourself in the process, just so we could talk longer?
W: That, and more.
F: I'd never cause so much of harm. Don't be so selfish.
W: Why shouldn't I? I've never done anyone any harm. Why shouldn't I have the one thing that I love?
F: Anything worth possessing can never be possessed. I'm only as good as the wax that fuels me- I shall die soon and you shall get over this madness.
W: No-
F: Yes.
(The Flame dies away.)
RAIN(R): Venting your frustration by tossing the poor clouds again, eh, m'dear.
W: Oh shut up, you've no idea.
R: On the contrary, I have a very good idea. I just wish you could cry on your own, and not use me to grieve ...
W: I can't cry! I don't even know the decent way to let go!
R: What was there to let go of?
W: That's true. She belonged to that lamp in her life and in death.... to no one.
R: Its your own feeling that you need to let go of.
W: Why didn't I know this feeling before? When she was alive and well? Why did it appear just as she was dying?
R: You were too busy testing her.
W: You are cruel! You call yourself a friend of mine??
R: Yes, I am a friend. And friends tell each other the truth. It's the truth, not me, that is so cruel.
W: The worst thing about you is that you always make sense. Yet you give me peace.
R: I don't always make sense. And I don't 'give' you peace, you find it within you in my presence.
W: Wash away those memories from me, my friend.
R: I can only wash away regret, never the memories.

The Flame

Philanthorpic enough to burn myself to give light and warmth to others? Yes.
Selfish enough to burn those poor moths who love me and come too close? Yes.
The light I give carries the darkness within, and yet , had my heart not been so dark, I'd never been able to glow and spread the light. Mirrors reflect me, the wind fights me, I die every moment I live.
Even the brightest white is but a shade of gray...

The Rain

Don't hide under that stupid umbrella. I'm pouring down on you for a very good reason. No, you won't catch a chill. What? You're scared of spoiling your clothes?Congratulations, your childhood is officially over. That's it, step out. My first little drop on your face. Wash away those years. Clean your soul of the pretenses it learnt. Spread out your arms and feel the life hugging you back. Dance like no one's watching. Reclaim yourself.

The Nocturnal Queen

I watch silently as the first rays of light outshine my starry eyes... blinding me, obscuring me to the world. Yet I am there. I am always there. I watch their days and the lies they live. But they tell me the truth. With the comfort of my darkness, they hide their shadows, drown their worries in a few glasses of wine, and look into my moon-mirror for the faces they hope to find.
When they feel me by their side they compose the best of their music, write moving poetry, they find themselves. The light of the day makes them wear their masks; cover the delicate wax of their hearts with the sunscreens of stoic professionalism.
I elude the ones who hide.
I delude the ones who lie.
Then there are some who wear their heart on their sleeves and their soul on their face. And it is to them that I belong. In the harshest glare of the Sun, they can find their guiding star.

The Nebula

Am sick of hearing that I could be a star. Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't. Even if I do, its not something I'd have any say in. Even if it happens, I don't know when it will be so.
I really couldn't care less. Because I'm doing my best. I know everyone wants to be a star, and very few get there. Everyone has the potential, just as I do. I don't want people to wish on me. I don't want them to use me to predict their future. I just want to spread some light. And whatever state I'm in, I'll do that. I'll have to burn myself anyway, and I'll burn bright enough to light up a few lives.
Everything else is inconsequential.

The Wind...

It's good to be the Wind. There's no stopping to where I can go... no one's seen the places I've seen. I've been studied and analysed but they still can't predict what I may do. But I'm in a gentle mood most of the time, no tornados or tsunamis, thank you. I'd rather be a pleasant breeze today.
I took a swoop down at the clothsline the other day, and stole a dupatta from some poor lady. I knew I'll have to leave it somewhere, sometime, but it was fun to tickle it up, just to hear the jingling of the little bells on the hemline. I tossed it just as I toss the clouds above, and just as they complained and started to rain, I left it.
Rain and sunshine meet me as they please.... clouds and clothes get tossed around.... and I wish for someone.... someone who could understand the way I drift... someone truly mine.

The Avenging Angel

They cut my wings away. I never said anything. I knew it was not my time to speak out, that would only make it worse. It is in the essence of society to be hypocritical. They say they encourage free thought when they most want to supress it. Goth , Punk, Emo, no matter how rebellious you try to be , it's still a label you wear, a standard you confirm to. And maybe the only free thinker would be a subculture of one.Maybe that's why they hate my wings so much. And I had come here thinking they'd be glad for the fact that I'm here... even a nice shiny halo doesn't help much here. All they know is that you're not one of them.Maybe I should tell them I was like them once. I still am. I know the depths they've sank to, because I was in the underworld once too. The only difference is that they fail to see that its not a compulsion- it's their choice. Maybe that's why they don't understand - I show them that they could get better, but the path out is very long and dark.And so they drift on, in their delusion of being alive. I didn't come as a Messiah- I came here to forget, to start anew, to find some new friends. I suppose that's not to be. The jail cell was pretty easy to break.

And they never knew I had a pair of spare bionic ones.

Meet My Alter Ego :)

The name is irrelevent. 'Pixie' may change tomorrow. Indeed, the soul of this alter ego lies in her ability to change ( for better or for worse). She observes without being involved. She absorbs the eccentricities of the people around her. She does not judge, but merely reflects whatever you are, and whatever you can become. She is everyone in my life, and in some parts,she is me too. I don't know who she would become tomorrow, but the next blogs would be written , not by me, but by her. It is an outlet to the sheer weirdness of the humanity that surrounds me. It's time to set the Pixie free.