8. The Violin Play

“Hey, Alex. I guess I am sick. It is time to wake up.” I could only feel the febrile decay of my strength. My body was warm to its core, the brittle memories from the weird dream added to the problem. ” I had a weird dream. Fever dream, I suppose..”.

“Good Morning, take an off today, Dr Atlas. You think so much.” she came closer to kiss, the touch of her lips was cold. ” It is bad. You should have a break. Stay at home, I will come early as well.” Her voice was comforting, yet my body felt as if it would melt from the shivers through my skin. I took out the medicine and swallowed it with the last sip of water left in the water bottle.

“Yes, I will text them that I cannot come. Have a good day. Make something delicious. I need some positive energy in my mind.” I smiled at her and kissed her for a brief moment. The moment was not enough, but my body was not normal. I smiled again and closed my eyes, afraid of the dream yet searching for the answer of the Vedas. Wisdom could not reach to me eventually, the dream made no sense.


The endless and immortal space, a dream again. A drop of sweat rolled down my face. Another dream with no wisdom of real context of my life.

It was the space this time, completely empty just a sort of a cluster of beautiful colours in front of me. I was not breathing, not moving, not listening, but I was there. Kept at the moment, waiting for something to wake me up. I placed my vision onto the bright colours in front of me, the cluster looked like a coloured river contained by the moment. I close my eyes, trying to wake myself. I was stuck again, sweating with the vision of a giant super nova. A dead star, ironically my mental status at the very moment; a mind incapable of allowing the wisdom of the experience, process through its core.

I helplessly stare at the blend of colours, a golden glow around the deep red and blue blend of its centre. To the little philosophy in my head, it reminded me for the colour of blood revamped with the blue of the sky. Symbolic of danger, life and peace. I was certainly lost. I kept looking till my mind could perceive an image of a women’s face in the dead star. A beautiful face, red on the inside and the blue slowly converted into the black like the rest of the space. A slow descent of the blue into the darkness. A sudden sound gave me chills, it was music. A violin, a sad-single instrument that seemed to be the void around me. The face had darkened on the edges of the colour. The eyes had the blue, rest everything was red. Red to the essence, I did not even try speaking. Waited for the silly dream to send more cues of my sub-conscious head.

The music slowed down with the image of the women blinking her eyes, the movement again went forth to disturb the darkness. Her lips appeared and slowly the space around me began to detonate with a powerful tone to go along with the violin.

Each word is supposed to uplift your existence from the hell,

Each phrase had to pull your essence to the blue,

But you desired the blood! The wars!

You belonged to the skies, But the hour is rather broken to fly,

The words were dead when the red had coloured the race,

Only a few remain in the isolated verse,

You sought wisdom and here you end,

Dying with the meaning of those words as the ornament,

Just keep your soul, listen till inferno,

Sophia from the Republic has died,

They never read Plato in the dim light,

I only exist in this lost cell of thoughts,

Inside the mind of a sick person, inside the blank pages that were lost.

My body was almost gone out in the darkness, absorbed and devoid of my sense to a greater extent. Her face, the face resembled Alex. Sophia, rather a philosophy from the book I am supposed to read.

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Her Green Eyes

Assembling the puzzle pieces onto a story,

I reckoned how those hallways held my breathe,

How I used to be lost in the long trees in the rooms

Where lullabies were sung with alien threats,

My heart would rest my mind with the green,

And suddenly the lullaby will break into a scream,

My mentors would leave me to the crux,

But respect the notion of my love,

Ah! She was another thing of beauty that provoked,

A million dreams out on the road,

I could easily pass away myself onto her hair,

As if a slide to paradise,

A place with the smell of her smile,

Or rather a dream that alludes my green eyes.

The dreams were broken on commands,

The fear could only be defined as farce,

Broken onto the staircase for the demands,

With a team which made the farce end up as a laugh.

The days when I slipped over dreams to allusions,

And allusions to dreams, the child, the joy within me,

I reckon these thoughts and surface a smile,

When I think of the trees or her beautiful lies,

The trees are gone, with the wind adue!

With my love in the south, and my dreams in the room,

I look upon my school as a reflection of that night,

That blended the moon as a power of the divine.

I sang the verses of joy and sorrow,

I drank the colours of the world on the slab,

I laughed with my teachers on my lame plans,

And now I am here, with bits of reminiscence,

Hovering over my existence, defining the extradition of time,

Asking for that smile that never came through the mind,

But from the green and those beautiful lies.