Truth

Truth is a product of manufactured reality. It is not a cosmic entity waiting to be discovered in the oblivion. In the end, physical reality and evidences determine truth. All my senses are used in determining the truth. Its nature agrees to the manifestation of falsehood within minutes. Therefore, it is at times considered a ‘criteria’ rather than being a metaphysical entity. Oh my God! Even my existence will be doubted as I leave no empirical evidence behind. 

Like people doubt the existence of God, they will doubt me. I am not being able to reveal the truth. All my experiences are ad hominem. They can be maligned, called fallacious and beguiling from its inception. Can I justify random visions of darker forces in nature?  Does it fall in a rational category? I don’t care, if it does or if it doesn’t. Rationality has its limits in my dictionary. Pablo Picasso had said, “Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth.” Similarly, my falsehood and quixotic self is giving the world a share of the unreal.

I am manufacturing truth that is chimeral in nature. There are creatures from the darker recesses of reality. Hell hounds and Hydras are infants when compared with creatures that pass by me daily. Elephants with scales like fish and snakes that have human hands. My mind is not questioning the reality of these beings; it sees all of it as real. Questioning the existence of these creatures will only prove the existence of a schizophrenic brain. Street lights, cars and hookers do not belong to this reality. They can be a part of reality on the 'other side.'

Walking in the woods, my thoughts are being distracted by the dominant sound of the river. People are already talking about existence in tenth dimension of reality; third and fourth dimensions are a passé. I am hearing the ‘anahata nada’ within. The sound of hourglass drums is echoing in the woods. Moonlight bathes the woods in white light and the trees form silhouette of a recognizable figure.

The figure at times is known as Lalataksha, the one with an eye on his brow. His destructive work has paved way for unimaginable creation. Suddenly, I become aware about the destructive nature of truth. Truth is the destruction of one manifested reality for the validation of the other. Destruction is the beginning of creation. Let the larger truth be destroyed for the validation of my reality.

Veil

I am surrounded by an army of griffins. All of them ready to tear me down to shreds. Prediction and prophecies are showered upon my ears. Talks about doomsday and end of time is growing louder and louder. Suddenly, I wake up and realize it’s just a dream. These days Apocalypse is one of the recurring themes in my dreams. The ‘Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse’ have already paid me a visit. It could be a disclosure of something veiled from my cognitive impulses.

Burning sky with red crowned cranes and abandoned monasteries on distant hills are recurring visions. I am convinced that these dreams were eschatological battle of my consciousness. Orgasmic feel of the moon light has taken its toll. Dawn has become depressing and futile. Everything wakes up to a weird cacophony of hoots, cackles and wails disturbing the meditative silence of night. Drawing the blinds, I returned to the labyrinth of Daedalus. Heidegger is waiting for me to explain the ‘question of being.’

Philosophy is dying, no it’s dead! It’s has disappeared in the abyss of eternity. People who dive in the abyss never recover. Howard Roark is pacing towards the edge of eternity. He is followed by monks, fakirs and selfless men. All enter the mouth of Nebuchadnezzar stopping mid- way from the edge of eternity. Damn! How can I see all this happen without being in the abyss? In a second, I am staring at ‘Black Paintings’ executed by Goya. 

Sitting in the ‘House of the Deaf Man’ staring at Atropos, the inexorable goddess of fate and destiny, carrying scissors to cut the chords of life. My heart beat is slowly normalizing after the ‘divine plunge.’ Reflecting on the ‘question of being’ Heidegger is right when he says, “Being is what determines beings as beings.” I am slowly trying to understand ‘the being.’ Unable to grasp reality frustration grips my mind. The veil that’s hiding everything becomes opaque.

The armies of griffins have returned. They start nibbling on my head. I tried chasing them away but they pick me up and fling me into the ocean. Enough! I hate to be drowned. Feeling suffocated my eyes open. Thank God! I am here with creatures that look like me. I am happy with myself. The day is over and its time to look at the moon once again.