To Dance like no one's watching...

The heart of the artist lies not in the applause of another but in his performance...For when I dance I perform for myself; it is of no importance then if the audience is of one, ten or a billion people...I become the rhythm and the clap...The view and the viewer. The art and the connoisseur...? Of course I appreciate my self...exactly how I criticise it...

Not once have I performed for the sound of claps...I feel ashamed...incomplete if I do that...judgements are passed in doing so...A half hour on stage is not enough but so isn't a lifetime. In that moment of performance I become the God...the power to bear art and kill it lies in heart...my feet...me...the giver-taker are merged for art to exist...

The Night After...

My throat is parched and gallons of water won't be of any help...I am the 'Ancient Mariner' at 4:17 in the morning. But, unlike him my life isn't written all in Ctrl B and Ctrl I...There are stanzas in Comic Sans too..! But the walls of my dream house are plain and cream...

Do all of us have an albatros around our necks? If yes, then where is mine, for im sure i should have one by now...21 years is too long a time to go without mistakes altogether..

Yes, wrongs i surely did commit unto others but none left a bitter taste in my mouth...do i sound too arrogant? Words can never be perfect! So we strive and struggle some more with them. 3 years as the slut of literature wern't enough i guess...will time ever be...?

" Struggle is endless", "journey is the goal" all sound very nice and reassuring...but i didn't consciously choose the starting point. The trigger was pressed and i was too much caught in the race to breath when i kooked up the meaning of either words in my OED.

I can never conclude my " Bits of Lit" gracefully...but i guess that's coz in life i still have to enter the "main body" coz i stand in "introduction"...font size 12!

"I am the Captain of My Soul"

Destiny is inviting me to write her story and fate is imploring to answer his querries...

But then, what is left for me if i answer all the questions...if i disclose all my secrets?

There would be no part of me remaining that wouldn't be shared with all. What would i be then if there wouldn't be an 'I'...will i fall like a tear tomorrow coz' i dance like a smile today?

No answers disclosed though, all the right questions asked...no questions refused only answers arn't produced...in words or actions. And, strangely enough, answers were there even before the questions were thought of...for they were timeless...then, but now?