THIS CORRIDOR 


I am here again.

Silence and absence,
Inhabit this place, as always,
Playing hide and seek with me. Waiting.
Waiting for me to give in.
There’s something else too,
Something passive.
Invisible, almost inexistent.
Yet, like ozone, it corrodes me from the inside,
The pain seething through my veins, 
Growing more intense with each step that I take.
Something passive,
Yet active , due to the very reason of my existence-
Dreams, broken unbroken.
Things, spoken unspoken.
Memories, lost and forgotten,
Which lie here in the path, crushed, like broken glass,
Waiting for me to walk through it.

 This path I walk through, is a world between several worlds

Like a network hub,
Only , this time it connects several rooms instead of Ethernet cables.
And these rooms, each of them carry some of my integral parts.
As if I was a flower, and someone tore my petals and put them separately in these rooms.
The first few of these are merry, filled with all the good memories.
People, places, laughters sprinkled all over the little exhibitions of my life, 
In these rooms.
Solitude, solace, satisfaction come next,
Which slowly give way to something more intense-
Passions, anxieties, anger.
I stumble over particles of sand turning into pieces of glass,
Choking over the air I breathe.
I peek into the next room,
And I see my most aching heartbreaks, my worst fears, everything I couldn’t achieve.
I want to shout, but speech deceives me,
I want to comprehend, but thoughts fail me.
There’s nothing I can do but move ahead, its almost like this place forces me to.
And finally,
Towards the end, its something I dread the most-
My regrets,
leading to,
Inevitable death.

I compel myself to open my eyes.
I know this dream, this corridor, 
I have visited it often, at nights, in swevens.
Only this time it is not a dream,
And this is the first and the last time I am visiting this corridor.