Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Somehow every diurnal event reminds of the monotonous quality of life, then subsequently its evanescence.
Yes, one must possess such knowledge. However, this seems to pose enigmas to the intellect. How is the correct life to be lived? And I just seem not to know if correct would be an apposite word to be used in a situation as such, could it be moral then? Well, not for me though. I remain the immoralist, the dreamer of lepidopteran (which for some obscure reason remains immoral) gardens, in a faerie and yes again who is the propagator of a morality as such?
Oh, just questions.
And thusly such questions lead to nothing else but a miasma of existential dilemmas. Does an unknown fate make one exist in a form as it seems fit, that obviously I do not believe the case to be, but seems so for many a reason, and not so for many more and sometimes for less, hence a situation as such presents yet another dilemma. I know of paths and am unable to make a sure choice, one seems to take away time and in a fashion that I do not wish to give from such an evanescent and unknown quantity but promises of great reward if worked upon in a fashion that befits it, the other promises of my lepidopteran gardens and there evanescence does not matter. I do remain the immoralist and also the intellectual and am caught in a circumstance that permits me neither of the extremes nor a middle path and thusly all I have left is the Kafkaesque wrath.
Unable to choose, unable to act.
Wronged, I am.
And the respective agents push to where they must.
Pushed, I am.
I am...

Sudhir Sharma