𝚅𝚒𝚟𝚊 𝚕𝚊 𝚂𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊 !

It’s not like greatness catches me ( unawares,) at 3:00 a.m and matches itself to the gift of ease.

To me, over the years, 3:00 a.m has become a time of wonderment, where things in mind, run up against each other, and generate something like a dream. But in general, it’s the time of drawing out rather than putting in factual information. Whatever comes out of this —big release, it’s like a mind over matter appease. Though, nothing is short of any real happening as things get projected or even more so —get transformed over this viva la siesta’s screen. But at times, I do, genially fumble, at what-so-ever the mind generates quite unexpectedly. Strange enough, not all that comes out of nowhere, can be conceded as true. To such we attribute a “make belief.” Yes, mind has a unique way of making trial gallops, time and again, swinging into senses, to take on such back lashes of —this or that sensorium medleys. Incognito cogito or whatever we think it is. Grown to a seat beheld or something of that order makes it’s staged entry, as though, it is as it is —a true verdict.

Making sense of such tough enough situations is like springing up to a gaze and simultaneously assess what could be possible or what cannot be sponsored as our own thoughts.

It is said escape causes everything. When pondered deep — it can be a pathetic eagerness going bathetic in a spree.

At times, unbelievable, as it may seem, our thoughts can be snug stuck in any sort of rhapsodic melody, ironing out the subconscious abruptly, and then, take it all to the bugle calls of the military. Oh yes, our mind can affix itself on the real or the imaginary. Uninhibitedly, it can leap out and play a grueling symphony, as though, skirting unbidden in anything as it’s sole proprietary. Such a priori , which then, might be a blend of —intuition, instinct or even a vagary. And, to some, all that, might linger by in a reverie.

Cautiously terrified or astoundingly pleased, we look for something suggestive in the mind’s script while gazing along such puzzling urgencies that can come off at times—as unfounded gimmickries. And all this can happen amidst undefinable bridling mysteries, which then, c’d take on a new meaning. An altogether new direction, placing the dreamer in a back and forth cajolery, as though, to allow creativity to fill into ideation and tread upon a flight of fancy.

And in all this whimsy—the attention—more likely, wanders ,and repetitively, enrolls itself into feels of a playful jamboree. Interestingly enough, when such an enlisting is pushed aside, the mind has the potential to invent things renewably. And nearly as steady as ever something deepest flows through seamlessly. Here’s a glimpse of what flowed out as a pure sensation of the mind beset in the other worldly. Certainly and perhaps something took control over me ; a gene variant which spilled out a shell shocked poetry and while tending to such a 🐣 hatchling, I came up with this 3:00 am imagery. A living mantra to understand me from me—deeply. A quest to know the true nature of my identity transgressing through the realms of eternity.

𝔸 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕆𝕦𝕥 𝕀𝕟 ℝ𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖!

𝕊𝕖𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

𝔸𝕟 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

𝔸𝕙! 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙, 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕔𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟,

𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕤𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 —𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

𝕆! 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥,

𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕟 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤, 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕦𝕡 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖 !

𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖—𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕓𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕤, 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕖𝕤

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕝𝕖 ✨ 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕤𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 …

𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙, 𝕒𝕥 𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙, 𝕚𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤, 𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕥𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕚𝕟 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕕𝕚𝕦𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕖,

𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕥𝕙, 𝕚𝕥 so 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤,

𝕒𝕤 𝕧𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕥𝕙 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕜 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕘𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖!

𝕃𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕦𝕔𝕙 a 𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕟𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖,

𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕟, 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕕𝕚𝕞𝕤, 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 in 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕤

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕦𝕡 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕝 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕤,

𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕒 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘—𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠’ 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠’ 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 nights; a 𝕞yriadic triage 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕕𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕪𝕖𝕤,

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖, 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕, 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙 ..

𝕆! 𝕀𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕠 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕤𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖, ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕖𝕤, 𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙, 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖

𝕐𝕖𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕘𝕖, 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤 𝕣𝕦𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕗𝕒𝕣, 𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕤

𝕆 𝕃𝕠𝕠𝕜! 𝔽𝕒𝕣 𝕠𝕗𝕗, 𝕒 𝕣𝕒𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕗𝕤 𝕦𝕡 𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕖; 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕕𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕧𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕦𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕧𝕚𝕔𝕖,

𝕊𝕨𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕝𝕪, 𝕓𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕪, 𝕚𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕝𝕒𝕦𝕟𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕤, 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 —𝕧𝕒𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕜𝕖

𝕆! 𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕥 𝕚𝕤 .. 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕒 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕪 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕓𝕠𝕝 …

𝕆! 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕤 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥!

𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕚𝕟, 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 — 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕝𝕒𝕦𝕟𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥, 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕖𝕩𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖.. ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕥𝕠𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕫𝕖𝕕;

𝔹𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙 𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕖𝕟𝕛𝕠𝕪𝕖𝕕.. 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 …𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥!

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖 𝕒𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤

ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕝𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕒 𝕕𝕚𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕕𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕤𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕥 𝕞𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕝𝕪—𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠’ 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠’, 𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕤

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨, 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕣 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕚𝕟, 𝕚𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕚𝕖…

𝕆! 𝕃𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟 ! 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕫𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

𝔸𝕤 𝕔𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕤 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕥𝕙, duly 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕟𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤.. 𝔸𝕤 𝕦𝕡𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕤, 𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟, 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 —𝕤𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕥𝕙 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖

𝕀𝕞𝕓𝕦𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕚𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕧𝕖𝕪𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕆! 𝕊𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕤𝕠𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

𝕎𝕙𝕠 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕟𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝕒 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕗 𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

𝕆! 𝕀𝕥’𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 ….𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕞𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕕𝕤𝕥 𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗𝕗 𝕠𝕗 —𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥—𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕’𝕤 𝕖𝕪𝕖….

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕠𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕀 𝕝𝕠𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤—𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕚𝕟 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕧𝕠𝕚𝕕

ℙ𝕝𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠’ 𝕖𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕦𝕟𝕧𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕤!

ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕤, 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕓𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕥𝕖 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕪

𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕨𝕪 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤 𝕣𝕦𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠’ 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕤, 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕝𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕦𝕡 𝕚𝕟 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

𝕆! 𝕀𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕒 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕤𝕖;

𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 —𝕞𝕪 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕕𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤, 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕚𝕟, 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤, 𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤, 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕦𝕖𝕤— 𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖!

𝔹𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤, 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕘𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖, 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕦𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕟

𝕊𝕙𝕙𝕙! 𝕃𝕠𝕠𝕜!

𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖’𝕤 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟, 𝕓𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕓𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤, 𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕓𝕝𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕕,

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤 , 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕤, 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕚𝕥 —𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙, 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕚𝕟 , 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕞𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤, 𝕥𝕠𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕗𝕗𝕚𝕩𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕕…

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕥𝕠 my𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗— “𝕆! It’s 𝕊𝕠 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕖𝕕 ! “

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕠 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖,

𝔸𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 there 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕛𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔 𝕠𝕒𝕜𝕤— 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 —as though—𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖.

𝔸𝕟𝕕 , 𝕀 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕠𝕟𝕖, 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕖𝕔𝕙𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤, 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖

𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕤 𝕕𝕦𝕝𝕪 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕕,𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡 𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕦𝕖𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤;

𝕆! 𝕀 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕡𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕖𝕕…

𝕆! 𝕃𝕠𝕠𝕜 ! ℕ𝕠𝕨, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜,

𝔸𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕥𝕙 𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕘𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕤 𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 𝕦𝕡 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕖𝕤

𝕀𝕥’𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗𝕗 𝕒𝕤 𝕤𝕠 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝, 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕪 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕟’𝕤 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥..

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕝𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖 𝕦𝕡 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ✨ 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕖 ✨

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙, 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕔 𝕞𝕦𝕣𝕞𝕦𝕣𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕗𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖, 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕤 …

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕒 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕖, 𝕀’𝕧𝕖 𝕡𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕦𝕟𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕪 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤!

𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖, 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕞𝕤 𝕚𝕥𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 …

𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕪 𝕚𝕥𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕦𝕡𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 … 𝕐𝕖𝕥, 𝕚𝕟 𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕙 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠’ 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕠𝕣𝕓𝕤,

𝕀𝕥’𝕤 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕟’ 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕪 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖!

𝕆, 𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕀𝕥’𝕤 𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕖,

ℂ𝕠𝕫, 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝’𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 lives!

𝕃𝔹𝕃….𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕕!

And, mind it, those dreams weren’t like my ancestors ghosting me to believe —“ where so ever you go, we go as well. Certainly not like that tell tale laden underneath. They don’t haunt me like punctually appearing in my dreams, forever and ever, in recursive retreats.

On their own, my dreams have a propensity to tread future and beyond. Drawing out from those repetitive themes, I see myself moving divergently. It’s like treading all over the space, like time traveling through space except that the locus of rationale seems like a sort of “formless self,” finding itself subtly embarking on the most adventurous of trips ever. On it’s own dime, along comes this conjunctive faith, stringing along in verses—prose or poetry.

And from the culture I originally hail from —3:00 am time is considered to be the best and the most scintillating time to engage enormously in any endeavor of one’s first choice.

I mean as far as you are ready to stretch or go for it. It’s the time at which dreams are made.

Integrally it’s a journey from grace and into grace. However , I do face a wilt alternative to it … waking up to cats at my arms. At that time @ which all pursuits of grace soothe my soul through other subplots of dreamscapes. Sometimes I am woken up by my cats with gentle blows over my cheeks, which ,as we know, can be dangerously carnal especially when struck unawares in 3:00 am deep sleeps. Startled and lipping over such skipped dormancy, I wake up in a semi -REM state baffled. But then, all the rage with their hunger pangs makes them rally in with such a breakpoint of war cry grace, and to turn deaf ear to such pleas makes me feel inconsiderate. So I usually get up, soothing self somehow —landing up in the lavatory as if in a default defense. And then, thinking in a semi- woken state, I think— only in real life such a thing is possible … dreaming about the “otherworldly,” and then suddenly rushing in a different kind of flow —all out towards the toilet 🚽.

That is all ! That’s what I indulge in @ 3:00 am every —now and then, much before my cats 🐈 🐱 stare at me and indulge in their usual loud sound festivities.

There you go … I said things, as it is …. Ciao !

🧡🦢🦢🦢🧡 ✨💫

© ✍️ Madhu Goteti ,February 10th, 2023 at 3:50 AM