Back then when I was lost in haze and could only find the silhouettes, I wondered why I was not able to grab my consciousness over anything that could hold me still and release my pain. I kept knocking on my ideas which always gave me a sense of relief with belief that eventually everything comes to rest and everything finds the stability. This, I believed, was an ultimate fate that everything in commotion has to find the resting point and commotion can never be an end point. Each restlessness I believed was a process to go through to reach a point where everything would settle down to something of greater meaning. I would muster all that could be mustered inside me to watch each day falling back into hundred pieces. A ting of something would each day tell me to watch the day again. It pained a lot to see things never falling at right place but instead breaking my faith to ground. The sun each day told me to go ahead and find what I was searching and the darkness at evening would make me realize that I was still empty handed, standing still at the window, looking at the day falling to pieces. Each rise has a fall and each fall has a rise. And in some context, each fall has a spring. So has each haze a response to gravity and each silhouette a face.
There was an extreme urge in me back then to find rope to hang on while sorting what could be done for the situation. The urge to not let myself get drowned in whirlpool and never to be found. I was too eager to find the end point of the haze where I could see the faces instead of the silhouettes, and the same eagerness would tell me to try again to find the day falling in place, though, never it was in me the courage to stand a second watching otherwise.
It took me years, may be still processing, to understand that the urge was nothing but a hope in me leaping through the crevices in me. I was not aware of its presence and I was looking for something to get hold on. I was holding the rope which I was looking for, yet I kept waiting for one to appear. The light was touching me as scattered beams in tunnel, yet I was magnifying darkness. And yes, sometimes we are holding the thing but incapable to understand it, until the murkiness vanishes and picture becomes clear. I was in total dismay as why I have nothing to hold on to and why there seemed no way out. Now that everything is settled, I understand how essential the Hope is and how incapable I was to identify it. And final the day fell into the right place.