wAlk On

Its been ages since i made any entry here and really don't know why. Has life moved on. If i were to look back i would say i had given up on a whole lot of things only to pursue others which i would have anyway done in my life. So why give up one some?!?

Between April 2009 and now, to this date and time, i have spent not more than 5 months of productive work. And not once do i sit back and wonder what the fuck is it that i am doing?? Where is the wilderness that i truly sought? Where are my muses to tinker with my broken lyre?

Music has faded away, the ride's become still.
What was once is now a forgotten restaurant bill.
An experience of taste, colour and aroma
Only to be savoured, paid and "," (coma)
Life goes on. (Never Stops at just One)

The engine's been silent long enough. Gotten cold. The party's been long enough, the path raring to be trodden, ridden along. Have become fattened by the stay, lazy and way too comfortable. Gotta get up and look for my helmet, gloves and keys. Might have to buy a new jacket cos this one's been sitting long enough, its beginning to fall apart. But for now will make do with the old boy till it starts giving me the chills.

Been partying so long, totally forgot what the track looked like. Maybe its just me and my fading memory but it all seems to have changed, transformed and altered. Or maybe its just the new riding glasses - traded my old ones for this new pair, fits very well. Anyway one can't tell whats real now!!

Reality just seems like a figment from a momentary lapse in story telling now. Remembering Maya. Thats what it is. A wonderful memory of something that just about lived with you a while. And then gone. But then again Maya is just an explanation to that. She is just coincidence/ consequence. But all the same its something you keep in touch with.

But the ride's got to go on. Some one once said "Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving." Now this someone happens to be acknowledged as one of the smartest brains to have ever walked the surface of this planet. The ride's got to begin all over before the carnival rust comes riding into the very core of the machinery that will keep the bike moving forward. Have rested long enough to call this stop home. But there really is no home:

WHERE I REST MY HEAD IS HOME.

Something i have always believed in, something i just forgot. Home is where i am headed, once my ride is done.

P.S: glad to be back