Restless

I am awake throughout the night. I am restless as if i am ending an age which I lived, like a burden, like a cage and yet i tried to love it as much as i can. I had been through stories for the night. Stories of utmost human courage, stories of brighter life and stories of life unexplainable in any pattern of meanings. Where will be i am tomorrow? Where will be these woods, hiding in the corner of city and displaying whatever they have to offer? I drank one evening last day, i was choked as if all zest i have stored for my actions was leaving me, then suddenly I entered a spell, a lyrical feat, which is carrying me into some unknown rapture, I am conscious that it will be grand fall once this spell ends, but i am helpless as i am enchanted. I am feeling you, I am feeling all those who are shaping my words, i feel these sunrises and sunsets, I feel all colours and vivid expressions of sky, i feel music of all languages and un-languages which kept me warm in dry hours of self search, and i feel futility that my words carry, and yet they are the only thing i have, as my own, unique and without any doubt.
My heartbeats should stop now suddenly. I do not want to creep into future or find myself dragging from the past. I do not want to seek for any listener of these rotten words, which have nothing of their own as they are always carrier of something beautiful apart from them, or i do not wish to dive into bottomless fathoms of myself. I want to end at this moment, when new day is spreading its marvel outside, all the chords of life are ready the echo into their unison and the only secret of existence is now imbibed in my veins. I will be transformed; I will be alive as Rilke says ‘Life is lived in the transformations’, but the form I had before this is decaying, signs are getting lost into this flood of words, tide of expression is occupying all unknown terrain of dreams, I am withering into silence...
I remember poems now, which are carved in my mind. Every poem is same, even though it is knitted into different knots of languages. It has poet’s soul which burns between the lines, which is lost into region which poem explores, buried into meaning where poem signals and alive in the one who carves the poem into one’s heart, mind, soul and remain cursed for all the life after that moment.