There’s a need to share. I don’t what it is or why it is or for whom it is, but clearly it’s there – this need to share. To spill into someone else’s space, to mix the private with the public, to keep no secrets.
Just to share the space of thought, of consciousness mixing with consciousness, dropping all barriers, a perfect meltdown.
What is this?
Faith? That for every giving there’s a receiving.
Belief? That someone somewhere is listening.
A secret relationship with the Unknown?
A tryst between strangers – writer and reader?
Even as the writer writes, the reader creates too, a dialogue of her own, sometimes in flow with the writer’s thoughts – sometimes veering towards a tangent, and then returning to the written word and then moving off on another course, into another dimension.
Readers reading words and sparking off a symphony.
Imagination sparks imagination, thought catches thought. Worlds create worlds.
A stranger whispers words into the hearts of nameless, faceless people.
Sitting here facing a screen of forming words… the words flow on, the sharing grows….until contentment creeps in, and with it a full stop. An exhalation. Moksha of a kind. Great relief flows in, and with it a flood of peace.
From form to formlessness…words to silence.
Om Shanti, Shanti, Shantih.