The Abyss

Have you ever being in a point of life where nothing seemed to work out? That point where a person tends to give up; where you feel as if you are standing at the edge of a cliff and realizing there’s no way back, no way forward, no way anywhere other than falling from the cliff into an abyss?

I am at that point, helpless and vulnerable. So, that same feeling I’m going through where I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, with negativity crawling up my back wishing to throw me away some time when I do finally give up. I still do stand there knowing not what to do, I feel constant stabbing behind my back (way more than Julius Caesar ever could imagine). Each day I get pushed a little further at the edge, I see pebbles cracking off and tumbling down the mysterious abyss. The sky isn’t blue anymore, the birds dont sing anymore, the wind doesn’t blow anymore. All I see is the mist covered abyss growling at me.

Things seem very dark and cold right now, as long as I think it is. No, I don’t need help, I got an audience where some wished I jump and some wish I fight back. But I dont let them choose what I do because I’ll have to help myself. As I said it is dark as long as I think it is. I choose to think that the abyss is not as dark as it seems, how about I take a leap of faith and see what’s down below? Of anything goes wrong I’ll just respawn like in a game and start over again.

As I have noticed that it’s all in the head. No one can help me nor anyone will teach me how to come out of it, it is me all along, who walked by the path to the cliff. I am the tutor and I am the student, I teach myself how to deal with my own things. We are all basically wearing colored glasses, we see what we are shown; take them off and see the black and white, grab on to a paint brush and a palette paint it the way you want it.

The reason I’m saying this is as many of us go through shit, we dont feel like being there anymore and just give up. We all have different sources of negativity. People tell us not to give up and fight back, but it’s not that which is making us strong, we do give up but in a different way, by taking a leap of faith, by moving forward as we dont have any clue what’s ahead. Dont cling onto non lasting minimal motivation that people give, motivate yourself. You are the puppet and the puppeteer.

Poetry = cure

Poetry is something I truly adore, i have read several kinds of poetry from many different people with different perspective and the poetry of Robert Frost still remains as the best I have read so far. Many of you maybe be familiar with one of his greatest poems ‘Stopping by woods on a snowy evening’ which had this beautiful line “and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep” as the end, isn’t it beautiful? ; the depth of these two last lines are so immense that it makes every reader wonder. This poem was undoubtedly the best of his collection.

Not everyone is a fan of poetry and nor anyone can feel the depth of the poem (no offence intended or generalized facts, its just what I feel). I feel there’s a greater connection and a lot more emotions of the author with the poem; no one read a poem from the author’s perspective, but we surely can decode the message that they are trying to give and try our best to put ourselves in their shoes.

I, on the other hand not only read poems I write them too as I never managed to fully settle down the depth of the poem within of any author; in order to fill that gap I started writing poems, and so that I felt my mind and my soul connect with harmony as I write down an ‘emotion‘ without limitations, which was a poem.

I wrote my poems whenever my mind rushed with an emotion, and that was rare. I first started writing poems during my high school. I first wrote them in a notebook, then as soon as I proof read it myself I would rush down to my English teacher for her to final proof read it as she always welcomed me for any help; she read it with utmost concentration and seemed to understand the depth of it, later she corrected few parts of it and asked for a copy of that poem. She quite seemed to like my poems. Writing poems was a habit back then.

One year into writing poems I had to leave my school for certain reasons and was shifted to where I am now. In the process of shifting I may have lost some of my poems or you could say I cant find them anymore and some remained. Life has changed ever since, I was more free of mind back when I was in high school, then unknowingly I was no more free on that state and now I have lost the daily rush which made me write poems.

I would like to share one of my first poems that I recently found from one of my old notebooks:

Aren’t you too bright?

Oh lord, I feel not my eyes
Just as I looked at you; were you too bright?
For you to steal my sleep throughout, every night?

To the moon I cry, wilst Thou spare me
From Thy boundless beauty, that hast my soul
Captured and buried  in the soil 
Where my hope lies?

Confess, I will to Thee: that I held back 
An ancient sea within me
Too long, to be stinking  of love for Thee,
As I saw nothing in return for me.

Oh mountainous barer of beauty, fair Diana
Does art Thou feel 
What I feel for thee?  I think not-
Does art Thou not feel the stars,
nibbling on Thy humble beauty? 

Yet again it was just another night
When I lost my sight, to which
I confess my eternal love for you
each night, as I look at you. 

Aren't you always too bright?

 -Ishan Dutta Gupta

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