End of Reign

“Death is inevitable. A reign that is created, must fall apart.”

The body will decompose or fly. The phony sculptures and mighty architectures will not stand still. One day or the other, it will atomize into soil and sand. It’ll worth nothing more than blowing dust. The power, we are fighting for, will fall. The dog tag of the religious illusions will melt. No culture, no belief, no faith will hold us together.

Pseudo brotherhood will die in vain.

The only fact of time-and-space is true. Evolution is just a word. Space between two-time periods is evolution. Cosmic energy that was travelling through space has given birth to this beautiful universe. From nothing all emerge. And after billions of years we took birth with no religion, no greed and no ego.

The experience we gathered, the knowledge we shared and the space between us has given our identity. The starvation and security forced us together. Later, pleasure and power overrun our judgment. Nationality, language, colour, habit, religion, circadian rhythm have bifurcated the freedom of living. And as we progress through time, one after another the light of Mesopotamian civilization, Indus valley civilization, Macedonian Dynasty, Maurya Dynasty, Roman Empire, Ottoman Empire, Mughal Empire, British Empire went off.

The rise of renaissance buried the social abuses and slavery. A new global awareness and care is spreading. Information and education, vision and ambition, rapid creation and destruction are erasing the myths, customs and traditions that don’t pace with time. Old must die, and new finds its place. And when it will reach its pick. Sooner or later the overexploitation and injustice towards this globe and automation will eventually destroy mankind, a new era will take place.

History will repeat itself. Same as dinosaur were once completely erased and we took their place. And eventually this planet will also end once the sun burn out all of its energy. Everything that we know today will turn into nothing.

The Death is the Ultimate Truth.

©The Honest FablerPooja Mukherjee
©Image Source – Google Images

Death’s Lullaby

No more me.

My body is in silence, yet my heart’s loud.
The glimpse of black and white flickers with extreme oscillation in my cerebral.
And my soul inside? It’s falling apart.
Drifting between memories. Trying to hold on to one, But failing every time.
The noise from everywhere can not reach me under this midnight sun.
Voids of vein and numbness in my limbs are encroaching within.
Utter pain in my ribs, yet calmness​ flowing through my skin.

Jaws are locked, tightening my teeth.
There is cry for oxygen with my every breath.
Changing into pale lips and blue neck without any sense.
It is near, I can feel it’s cold presence.
The very next second, I am free.

No more happiness or sorrow, as I was before birth,
Looking at me from above, is it someone I know?
Alas! They’re incognito beings that surround me.
The water from their eyes will not bring me back from hollow,
I Am already free from agile and grief.
I’ll reunite with Fire, Wind, Earth and Sea.
Now, I am no more me, But still I wish to reborn as me.

©The Honest Fabler – Pooja Mukherjee
©Image Source – Google Images

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Nexa’s Sleep

The air directly hit his face, dragging with it the untrimmed strands of hair and his bushy beard. His lips were dry, a few fresh cuts let out sour blood on the tip of his tongue.

What a day.‘ He let out a deep sigh, his words lost in the nothingness of the night. Taking a look inside the train’s car, he noticed he was alone except for a homeless man and a child sleeping on the floor.
At least he has someone to care for.‘ He pitied himself, looking at the two men with eyes full of grief. His mind travelled back to the night when the earthquake annihilated his home, along with his entire family. How he survived in the mess, is still a miracle.

That was 3 years ago, he has reached far from that now. Or so he likes to think so.
His family didn’t haunt him anymore, they’re nothing more than a bad dream. A bad dream that he’s reminded of when his days are sad, which is everyday.
After the disaster, he lived in an orphanage only to be sent in the home for “Special youth”, but he knew he wasn’t special. He was diseased.
Diseased with the tumor of his spiritual family. He talked to them, he listened to them blaming him for not accompanying them in the afterlife.

They would never stop.
Not when he was alone and never when he was being checked by the doctors. Nobody knew why he behaved so out of the norms, nobody gave it a try.

But, oh, she did. That was the reason why he sneaked out so late. She was coming to meet him.
She always talked to him through telepathy, kept him sane when his family scared the life out of him. Yet he never saw her. Not that it was necessary, for he knew tonight he’ll recognize her the moment he sees her.

And so he does, she’s right in front of his train’s door. He walks up to talk to her but she glides away from him.
“Nexa, wait!” He shouts her name, but she doesn’t stop. ‘Nobody loves a man who can’t care for his family.‘ It was his mother’s voice. ‘You let us die.’ His sister scratched her nails in the metal wall.
“Stop!” He screamed and saw Nexa’s aura alluring him. ‘I’m coming, dear.’ He said and jumped out of the door to touch her.
The moment he did, a layer of white silk gulped him in. There were no more screeching nails, nobody to blame but only Nexa’s lullaby and a cradle with peaceful sleep.

©The Honest Fabler
©Cover credits- Google Images
PS- Nexa is a personification of death.