Trails of the wandering Wolf

Labels scare the shit out of me. Since the time we are born we get stamped with labels. Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Isaiah. Higher caste, lower caste. Small town, developed city. And the newer ones that always seem to offend someone or the other. LGBTQ and a few more obscure letters. A dozen different sexualities and a hundred different orientations formed from those sexualities. Feminists, menimists (apparently "menimists" hasn't caught on with the Google dictionary... I bet that will offend someone). What the hell happened​ to just being human? Or is the "man" in human offensive to some pseudo-feminists? Ooh! Another label! We pretend to unite for a cause by causing several more partitions. And what's more? We get offended by the mere sight of the opposing party. (I bet that offends the "neutral" or diplomatic population) We refuse to see and instead relate. Relate to our memories. Relate to our assumptions. Relate to our impulses, obsessions and emoti

March! March! Marching on! Trunks, massive and old; Wither and fall. Revs and rumbles Uprooting, trailing splinters. Yellow machines Reducing green to cinders. March! March! Marching on! Camouflaged steel; Crushing bony offal. Venomous microphones, Hateful cones. Dividing sheep and Making violent drones. March! March! Mar-! A wash of white! A sphere of plumes... Silence... Silence at last! But wait, look! Alas! A sky of darkness, Weeping on morbid dirt. Silence, silence, silence at last... A stillness, stiffness; A petrified past. And then they chose To rise again. A ray of hope, a heart-shaped green. A start over, with newer friends...

I don’t know what I am going to write… As usual. I am mostly confused whether I should talk to myself or to someone else. I have these urges of spending time with other people. But, at the same time there are barely any people I like spending time with. I over-think things, because that is the only way I can create enough noise to change my mood as soon as things get dark. That, and because I’m compulsively creative (for the same purpose). I am purely reflective. i.e. I am versatile to get into any role a person or situation demands. But this versatility is also damaging to my identity. I suffer from basic problems like not knowing what I like or dislike. I cannot do those, “Quick! Tell me what you want to do right now!” kind of games. While most people lose all layers and dig out their identity after that statement, I go blank. Because I do not want anything. I have no desires in life, nor aim, nor purpose. And hence, no ambition. I can pick up a piece of paper on the street because

With Fear and dread overcome, Moments dampening my spirit. There is a brand new world Made for me but I ain't in it. These roles that I choose And the masks that I wear Ripping holes; I stagger confused As I'm slowly stripped bare. Shadows and silhouettes, Shifting me like I'm broken. I can't find my heart Though I'm torn open. I cry not for shame, I guess Because shame's just a token, A mark, to show the mess That you can expiate, once spoken. In a lucid dream I lay, Not sleeping, nor awakened. A suspended immortality Not living, nor dead.

A crystal bead of a million hues, Awakening to calls Of a boundless tune. Slipping and falling to forces unknown. Pulling and striving for a glimpse At the strings and rays of a breaking dawn. A sight so satisfying, so clear and united Surrender manifesting, bowing blades of green. Ready, now, to answer. Leaping in faith. Alone in its descent, in a solitary existence. Swirls of gray, forming A sky full of wishes. Unanimous in surrender; Beads of a million hues. Awakening from slumber; Uniting rain and solitude.