The Quest Of Questions

What do you do when your dreams and spirit are equally broken? What do you do when hope seems tangible at one moment and the other moment it seems to be somewhere in some far away land? How do you get your broken aspirations together? What do you do when your wounds are festering but you know that the scars will tell tales of glory? So, do you heal the wounds or let it fester? What do you do when you know you are evolving and being extinct at the same moment? What do you do when all that you were and all that you want to be don’t coincide and your soul is crushed between two incarnations and you are walking a rope so tightly gripped by ironies and only more ironies? How do you collect the pieces, how do you mend, how do you sleep on broken edges?

What do you do when everything seems a question, a paradox? Should you be happy that you are questioning or should you be fearful of getting slain? What do you do when you have the dreams, the talent but not the money? Between passion and money, who ultimately wins? Should you go to hell and see the lives that money has destroyed or the souls that raging passion has burnt? What do you do when you start to question every relationship you preciously hold against your sobbing chest? What do you do when all institutions appear meaningless; education, family, friendship, love, everything a monotonous drone? What do you do when you come to know you are the Satan and you are the Saint? What do you do when you got to pick sides and you very well know that picking one will destroy the other and yourself too? What do you do when you can feel the ashes in your mouth every time you try to restore the broken? What do you do when religion and constitution too rages a war in your mind? You are powerful, as powerful as the sheep in the cattle and how do you turn this meek power into a mighty flash of light? What do you do when the only solace is books and words and the only war is books and words? What do you do when your every breath is anxious, your breathing brief yet Google cannot name a word for your mental agony? What do you do when you know that only creating is what will suffice your soul yet it is creating that shall destroy it too? How do you create when you got too many shoes to step into, yet how do you serve justice to those shoes when your legs are somehow tilted to some other land? Are you called selfish then? Or are you called selfless- a person with no duty towards self? How do you sleep when you always dream the same nightmares, the same one which rips you open in the middle of the night and makes you gasp in plight? How do you live when you know your life is just like the sand on the beach, constantly eroding with the waves?

Where does this trail of questions lead me to? Towards myself? Will this quest ever find a way?

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