What does one do with these thoughts that imitate a firefly. Elusive, haunting, with hopes of promise and enveloped in mystery.
It's like a breathless moment before, opening the lid of an old trunk or door to a deserted house or the first step in a secret garden.
Waiting for the fireflies to reveal themselves in a way that at least keep the ground and the sky intact...

Unsaid_Draft

That view of clouds slowly engulfing the mountain
and the wet air that mixed with the breath
The unsteady steps through the treacherous unknown
and the pause that encountered the divine
The search for the unseen in the tormenting daylight
and the mysterious spec that delivered delight
The stifling bondage of the mind
and the respite of fresh air despite the grime
The walk through forest, the sneaky snake,
The unconcerned birds, the purple dragonfly,
The rebuking stream, the boards of time,
The corners of darkness, the nests of light,
The gifts of birth, the tests of life,
The sudden fall, the struggle to rise,
The snipped past, the box of stories,
The uncertain dreams, the conversations in the mind,
all like encased in a monotonous clock,
....are safe with me like the unassuming magic between each breath of time

I never knew there is this feeling, where you want to write and the words don't surface. They are just locked somewhere and refuse to reveal themselves to the brain. 

Since I have subscribed to the Alain DeBotton's school of life channel, I have no complex strands left to be thought and resolved. Maybe as the questions are answered even before i could ask them. I think, therefore I am supposed to move on to other interesting pursuits.

What a gift this channel is :).....