There are days when the entire world seems grey, jus like the lady in The gift of the Magi i look outside the wide large tinted glasses of my office i see a world that is grey.
The sky is grey threatening to break forth into torrents of sorrow, and bitterness. The birds are not in flight as they huddle in dark damp trees afraid of the tears that the sky sheds. The black asphalt is muddied and grey with trampling feets and gurgling rivulets and stagnant puddles.
Whatever i look at is grey and the dreariness seeps from the atmosphere into the entire frame, my corporal frame is drenched in sadness, in bitterness, in complete disharmony, and out of tune with all that is happy and festive.
Strange that in this festivity i find myself stealing heavy sighs and dabbing the cornor of my eyes which seem to leak a couple of tears the sky has shed today.
Someone had written, i like the rains, because in it i can cry without having to wipe my tears.
Today i start to believ and see how alone we are in this world, may be Arnold was right, we are but separate islands and teh sea of distance will neevr let us meet, there is no bridge that is permanent, that will last through the pain and the misunderstandings and the hate and teh bitterness. Sucj tides sweep away the new formed and old bridges leaving us gasping from the deluge that fprces us asunder.
But to talk of the reality i am too coward to accept i hide behind the creative words which leave a lot of truth to be desired...
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