i enter this world of exchange to exchange ideas, i open this bright space that will connect me to diverse brilliance, change to my preferred font of convenience and save the new settings. i look down at the keyboard, neatly and precisely spread my fingers on the keys, and i wait. i wait for the energy to concoct, for the sleeping spirit to be beckoned, for the music to set in the grove and for the ideas to take birth. my mind drifts. i look out the window beside me, think of the missing tree that had once completed the scenic beauty of the small piece of sky amidst buildings with a moon hanging just above eye level. i look back at the screen. my mind carries me to an unwritten poem that is lying just at the back of my mind, embedded somewhere in convoluted ribbons, meanwhile an image of the transcripts for a book probes at my doors of desire, craving for attention. i search frantically, commenting pitifully on the frequent usage of the word 'frantic' due to a limited vocabulary, for a theme, for a subject, for a topic of interest pleasing enough for my synapses to make any sense of: something mystical, spiritual, soulful, real. it happens to be that cosmically mysterious moment when i receive a call from an old lover, presently an agonizing confusion to whom wholly i once belonged. i think i have written enough; adding more hues to the painting might irreversibly spoil the broth, as i egg my motivation on to pursue this quest until the machine retires tired. the pinkish hues of dusk catch me staring at them with wild passion, pining to recreate that majestic moment that modestly passes me to lure another mad lover. i sit here in twilight dumbfounded and awestruck, reminded of the magically incomprehensible beauty of existence in various forms of this inconspicuous and dynamic energy. i re-read this little piece of which i secretly feel proud for the nth time, feel satisfied by this small progress while i look at the clock and feel pressed for time. i save this work in the mirrors of my mind and i leave partially content, telling myself to make another attempt tomorrow.
