It amazes me how the day transforms itself in to the night. It almost makes me take a pen and write The day isn’t 24 hours long. The day is when there is light and darkness is what I call night. And night is when the soul-self is at song. I could count myself as one fine example of a differential day-user: day drags on and on with the dirt filled drop of sweat trickling down my forehead until it splits itself at the eyelash, into many more tiny drops of hope. And on days that spell bad, it gently combines itself into another huge drop of tear; tears of the eye. There is an overwhelming feeling in this. It keeps me off track of counting the number of times this has happened. And/But when it does, it only reminds me that there is night. When the Sun sets, almost splitting the defined day into an almost twelve hour halves, I so eagerly wait for the coolness to set in, the coolness defined by the psychological mindset that whatever happened through the day is only the derivative of the night before.
And why? Just as I begin to put the day to rest, my mental activity begins to wakeup. Funny it may sound, but it so comfortably tires me without any physical activity. Just mental. There is comfort of the soft-pillow that hugs my arms and the eyes do their bit, their movement trying to clear the mind off the day. Because what follows is the attempt to beat fear and raise hope.
I have been and still a victim of certain phobias, wishing to battle them head on, first in the mind and then let ting the future do the talking. Then there is an entirely new world called dream, of which I have no control. Science plays its symphony in the head creating characters that are faceless and stories with plots that seem baseless. It still feels like a superbly scripted play because in this there are no interruptions. I never wakeup with fear. That was taken care of while the eyes did their active bit.
The process of the night ends on an abrupt call of the day, like the blink of the eye in sleep. And I wonder, sometimes, whether time took a quick leap blanking my mind off a few hours. Two pieces of the same day and the same mind that feel so disconnected. And in such a lovely way…!
Paradox? Let me just treat this as a cool Reality Split. Split at the L in both. Different yet so identical. Wink!