A Lack of Colour

It’s a buzz, a distant commotion which can be only experienced. A feeling like no other.

It’s not black, not white, not even gray.

There seems to be the large mystery of what is yet to appear – a mirage perhaps.

People say that all good things come with good time, but when will the time come?
When will it not feel so empty and fathomless?

What I feel everyday is not enough to complain about. There is no unhappiness. In fact, I have much more than what the average person expects. But the emptiness doesn’t seem to go away.

Is it things, money, people or excellence? What will help quench this thirst? In a seemingly perfect life, will the jigsaw ever be complete?

Then there are those dreams. Whatever do they mean. But then, do dreams ever mean anything? Common understanding is that they are a reflection of what we think largely about – but what do I think most about?

Such a maze, a puzzle with indefinite surprises, some bitter, some not so.

In this world full of wanting and people functioning on things which would help satisfy what they yearn for, where does one find truth? Is there a point where we can stop looking and be satiated?

Music helps, almost heals a wound I cannot see.

There are still those times when the walls close in, when no amount of intoxication is enough, when the screaming won’t stop, when life seems without colour.