Wow never thought that our team could do so well Down Under. The wall stood tall. "Dravid slays Goliath," read the headline of an Australian newspaper.
And what a day it was. The wall of ego also crumbled.
I dont know but creativity is choking today. To rephrase the truth,"My emotions are sounding like the mechanical clicks of the keyboard." Emotional reality is surrendering to the technology. Expressions of my heart are lost somewhere in the microchips of the comp. And without expression and feeling, one cant write. So, i have again found an escape route not to write? I betray myself.
But I sometimes feel that the most intense and creative writing is borne out of madness and tragedy. Or as some say by the intoxicating magic that Bacchus weaves. So, today, I m neither mad nor tragic. And Bacchus, the God would do well to stay back in Greece.
"Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, but on the viewless wings of Poesy" I will fly to thee...where the soul lies in mirth and elation.
But writing seems to be a highly classical and pedantic task. A prose sans romantic poetry is sterile. Though I m romantically overcharged today, my writing lacks intensity.
The pastoral in me dominates today, still it seems that the muse has turned hostile to me. Why cant she lend her magic to me? Where is the rhythm? Oh muse I pray to evoke u from ur slumber! Bless me so that I can write. Hah Muse doesnt rise and I wind,,,