I have never seen clouds hovering below me. As I stand atop this mighty mountain hidden by this eventful night, I am thankful that rain will never upset the gravity. There is an army of angry clouds spread out miles, down in front of me. The thunderbolt and the storm are now a sight to behold, as I stand taller than them. Yet it’s terrifying and frightening, whenever the clouds rumble and detonates its cannonade, this creating an outburst followed by an uproar that deafens me, and it’s almost every third second.
I don’t ignore the darkness; neither do I eliminate any possibility that there are no clouds higher than me. It’s still a subject of great fascination to me that how could I reach a place so high.. So safe. Surely God has been kind. I pray that people who believe in love and trust are lifted too. Yet I am all alone here. Tomorrow morning, there shall be no thunderclaps, only birds will sing. I am well aware that these mountains have mysterious trails inscribed on them that will only be visible once there is a clear sky. Trails, whose origin is uncertain, just like the end. The comfort of having a bird’s eye view of the thunder is not eternal. To take a road, I will have to get down. There is a signboard that reads,
“THERE ARE HIGHER MOUNTAINS!“
I don’t… I can’t believe it. It’s difficult even trying not to be modest of the fact, that I could have been lifted higher. I find the thought full of kindness, kindness that I am not even close to deserve.
The roar of the lightning reverberates through the iniquities of the endless darkness, reminding me of that horrible night… When I was below the storm… When there was anguish… When there were tears… When there was a rebellion…
Amidst the black clouds, I felt disgusted. I didn’t want to get wet. I was all surrounded. There was no way I could escape. A wise man came to me and said, “either you run with the wind or against it, you can never be at peace. Look beyond the black clouds”. He disappeared. I wished I could ask him how he did that. Thundering started violently, the mighty wind blew and lightning flashed every second. I was crying. I was not prepared. I didn’t want to get wet. It became darker and darker.
I decided to run, still crying. Clouds leaked. I thought I would run past them. Drops, from the dark devils, attacked. I ran faster. Sprinted. Faster and faster. My limbs were in unendurable pain. Every bit of me struggled. Tears never stopped. I wept, shouting loudly, still running. Muscles backed out. Eyes could not afford more tears either. I fell. The loudest roar came then. I crawled. Shouting loud. Crawled a foot more. Then could nt. Rain continued to fall over me’
There is a delight in misery, the same delight which vapours feel after being heated upon. There is pain and helplessness only before they set themselves apart, break the barriers and fly off. Fortunate are those, who are in pain, those who can cry, for only they can realise how it feels to smile.
I wish to see white clouds floating swiftly in peace, like flakes of snow, only whiter. I cannot wait and reside atop this mountain, even if I wish. I’ll have to get down, choose the right path and climb the hill that will provide me with the view. Those moments are unforgettable when you cried or rejoiced, still I am not very thoughtful how I almost died with music left in me, neither I am worried how will I find the right road among hundreds. For now, I only adore this majestic night, the brief silence after a flash of lightning, waiting to be perturbed before every bit of air is thunderstruck. It’s quite astonishing that I am trying to trace a pattern in the flashes of lightning that could have killed me once. I might spend the whole night doing that.
Love.
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