By Pratheba P
Every now and then,
reality seemed to be a tempestuous cyclone;
Racing turbulent as the updraft,
Pouring thunderous as the downdraft.
Getting caught in the cyclone;
I seemed to swirl and swirl and swirl...
At times, I felt that I'm enough –
Raising to breathe along the updraft;
Fumbling... and trembling...
To stand on the extravagant outer rim of the cyclone;
Desperate – to sail through life.
Breathing for a moment.
Suddenly,
Swaying completely, with no defence along the downdraft,
I have succumbed to pressure,
Not of external but existential.
Unlike the extravagant upper part,
It is really easy and simple;
I'm feeling no turbulent emotions,
Just completely numb!
And there is this 'eye of my storm',
Which is beyond angst and despair,
Which is absolute peace.
I reach there in my dreams,
It is indeed 'you'...
My peace has been you...
My peace will be you.