Somedays, I wonder about the energy that passes on every day, from people walking outside, from the smile on my partner’s face, the days that are getting a bit longer in this part slowly. Sometimes, it is just an expression of frustration, venturing emotions, crying outrages, and unuttered silence moments.
Sometimes a live poem sparks in our mind to record the thoughts that might soon be lost over time. A few moments bring the moment of absolute nothingness, not even the thinking part, just breathing, keep breathing moments.
Our words in various forms bear significance in that sense. We are not always a more straightforward creature to express our feelings in front of others, not even all the extroverts. But, there is no restriction when it comes to words (spoken inside our minds). Even introverts will speak to their mind; they can question their soul, they can silently rethink what they needed to say, and whatnot.
Yes, I’m talking about all sorts of words (I mean, thoughts are some forms of stories, forming the picture in our mind, associated with the terms to express). Words don’t require to be with letters. Gestures and emotional bondage say their expressions too.
Oh mind, on the verge of words mingling to sing
the songs of the hidden mystical path
on the exquisite conundrum of pristine rhyme or rhyme less
merging the spelled musing into holographic expressions
onto humanized pattern
we realize the versed reflections
of wandering soul embedded.
When the writers write down words, it’s not only about expressing their emotions that poured into the artistic expression or detailed oriented inscriptions. It is not always about fact descriptions; it is not always about the struggled emotional journey’s digestion.
Whatever words we write has a deep inscribed thought somehow imprinted to it. Like a time-stamp, except it is like a mind-stamp.
The emotional tides, the felt motions, the positives, the negatives, the laughter, the cry, the logical sequences, the patterns to follow, whatever we write bears that particular moment’s inscription within itself.
That’s why editing takes effect. You edit to remove the emotional buff, unprofessional marks and try to bring the exact wording expected from you (either imposed by yourself, by the publication, by the editor, etc.). The edited version is the dressed up personality, the unedited left out one remains the ignored ones for life.
Except it is your diary!
Only you can access it (if digitally loaded, I doubt it). Only you can read, write, express, laugh, cry, feel sorrow. Only you enjoy joyous flavors by reading the lines you have registered, the torn blurry picture of the high-school sweetheart, your hidden hobbies, lost loves lost treasures, uncounted defeats, counted wins and cheers, burdens of life, etc.
All without censorship board, all without binding you to write in a specific way!
You are the one who decides the rules there. The diary becomes your silence room, your meditational companion, your psychiatrist in support. No judgment! You write, your letters float, words sync, and marks the time-stamp with the mind-stamp. Those particular words carry the scenes and the canvas of our mind for that time being, forever the page lives.
Diaries, a true mind-stamp, are losing their essence today. Evolve and transformation, we say! We can now get the taste of it in digital wordiness, privately. Although these private words are somehow digitally open to space, we keep them. Simpler to save and keep, difficult to express fully somehow!
words make an excursion on the hallowed chamber
the silhouettes of the mind in digital solace
sings a lullaby to the mind
sleep baby, sleep, in the meadows of resurrected thoughts
on a time-stamped nest.
Written on: February 10, 2021