Abstract!

Often there is a question that bubbles, and when I am about to realize the nuance — the question no more lives. It just becomes a passe. It transforms itself to an abstract. Its more like nihilism that recourses itself to form a crippled mundane. Or is it that the routine is handcuffed ? I have sorted out questions on my plate, I sit to decide and, then steadily, all the questions vanishes! I frantically look for them, but no where I find them? They have transformed to something else. And I fail each time I look for the transformation. 

It all leaves me so empty. And yet I hold on to the question — How spacious space can be within you? Is this space also diurnal? This space might even be an epitome of patience. Can a being be reasonably patient? Does it  mean that the energy of this space, as I call it, gets transformed to patience? Patience makes things calm. Or is this calmness leading me to something? I think there is a brush of stubbornness that patience has. You just cannot get rid of it. There might even be a phase of nonexistence. Isnt it ? As if you are going through a spasm. And you fail to express. Something that is meant to be just mine. 

It lives on to be an abstract. Is this spasm a hypothesis? Is it your imagination? However, if this abstract is some kind of a hypothesis then laws and logic will help deduce the unknown. But the unknown too gets transformed to a known or to a novel unknown. The colors keep on changing. 

It becomes both crowded and space at the same time. It is an everlasting duel. However, in this cosmic duel the essence and intricate details are lost. It leads to a chasm. A wholeness where you find nothing. It seems to me more like the transformation of a child from the mother's womb. But I question here my own thoughts — Is the child so the question or the abstract? 

Or the child is just a creation of thousand silences opening their mouth. You keep on feeding one and the other yawns open to be fed. And this process is so incomplete. It haunts your subconsciousness too. It follows you without faltering. Life has been silenced so much that it has become a tumultuous task to put words expressing them. 

I fail here!