He was not able to read the Absence in him, an Absence the paradigms of which were so familiar to him.
He loved to read and read regularly the writing of his life experiences, their liveliness and the void of their silent moments.
But something was amiss this time.
Also, the want of the ‘Absence’ was shadowing all other that was present.
Though, he still loved to read the life, he was not in communion with his soul to read the Absence today, because he was not able to personify his thoughts.
They were running together. They were not talking.
They were walking together. They were still not talking but their steps were in unspoken unison.
They were trying to read each other. The silent space between them was uniting their thoughts to converse, giving them the opportunity.
Yet, he was not able to read the Absence in him this time. He was not able to personify the Absence in him this time.
He was not able to experience this experience though he knew he had to read it, to make sense of all other that was present.
There was no other way but to come back to it, to try again, to talk to the silence of the Absence, to sit across its personification, to read the life, to make sense of the passage to the time again.
Life is about living it regularly.
Living is about reading the life consistently, in fusion with its liveliness, in harmony with its silence.
A life’s identity is about existing in its fulsomeness. It is about inhabiting its voids.
He was not able to make sense of everything else in the life today. He was not able to talk to the Absence in him today.
©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/