An Encounter with My Silent Assassin

The whimsical thoughts hovering in mind in a lazy winter afternoon,
impinging the stillness of soul, engulfing it into hollowness. The chase,
the desire to feel the unknown makes its presence felt in each occasional
encounter. The void inflates, grasps the whole existence, and the curtain of
negativity falls down, shrouding the rays of hope. The unknown, that can
only be fantasized, keeps haunting the soul, dithering it from realities,
making my feet stumbled in my rocky existence. The muscles of ability, the
only epitaph of a glorious past, are loosing their flexibility, slowly
suppressed by the casually collected fat, over the years. They can flex,
only with increasing effort, each passing day. The desire, takes a pendulum
swing, between its two extremes, never finding the required equilibrium. The
feet are getting stuck, in the mud, getting thicker each passing moment. I`m
sinking in, with my hands thrown away in the air, yelling for help without
the lips uttering a word. The burning desire and the audacity of hope are
the last musketeers alive in the war. Though ever lasting, they are losing
their vigor. Is it just fantasy or a reality? The silver line getting
blurred. I am loosing myself.

Is this what they mean by the difficulty of being good? The eyes can see the
dreams getting sabotaged, getting crushed. The ears can hear the sound of
death. Senses are all intact, well in position to perceive the inevitable
destruction. The moral dilemma is adding to the indecisiveness, allowing the
poison to spread all over the body. I am dying each passing moment. Still,
the numbing hands are impotent to kill the parasite, slurping and sucking
blood from the body. The voice trembles; the hatred borne in mind fails to
transform into scathing words. I stand a silent spectator, while you reap my
body apart; assassinate the dreams cherished for years, vitiate the soul
with the narrowness, and kill me every second.

The suppressed desire wants to show its one last defiance, before getting
assassinated. The stifled voice desires to scathe you one last time. You
better remember, I won’t die that easily. The wait is for the one right
moment, when I give you the one final blow, with all my might. I won`t let
my hope die a cowardice death. I won’t die that easily.