Another ending – with more spice this time.

by Awais Leghari

I finally think the cocoon is broken and my wings are fluttering. Emphatically, these wings are beating the wind with unmatched power, or at least I would like to think so. I know, my previous posts are littered with thoughts that might come across to you as banal; the same of old story coming out in a different way, or even in a similar fashion. I would like to see it as a story in continuation, picking up the pieces along they way as they slot together safely with the grand picture. And now that I finally see beyond the darkness of the inner realm of the cocoon where I was forced to subside, there is a lot more to life – all of a sudden.

Last time, when I wrote a post about exams, I couldn’t stop myself from sulking yet still tried to construct an honest effort to resurrect a feeling of hope, or perhaps a little bit of motivation, from the ashes I thought I was buried in. Now, I feel that never there were any ashes at all; more appropriately, it was the time capsule of evolution, slowly gliding towards a pre-destined path. The cocoon being the first step with a lot of humus to breed new concepts and to examine the sprouts already laid. Breeding new concepts is always exciting yet they take time to mature – so they shall grow up one day. However, the sprouts, the offsprings of a life-moulding caricature, the fruit of a mystical flavour – that is the real deal.

What I learned from ‘examining’ the sprout has laid a foundation for future concepts, for future seeds that should, or perhaps, must be sown. One hand busy with supporting whatever I had of me and another clutching the clay patch housing the sprout, I could see a mirror-like reflection of what I conceived as gloom, hope, friends, women and strangely enough, an uncertain future. No one knows what might happen tomorrow yet, why do we still make plans? An uncertain future – interesting.

And may be that’s the click – uncertainty – engulfing every other phenomenon yet being one itself; fittingly, being the mother of phenomena. An unusually, seemingly straight yet a distorted marks of an unsharp pencil, diving line of probability with the same idea encrypted on both sides – in different ways. For a person still discovering, classification is the aid necessary but for me, I noticed how the concept of probability snaked through every image I could muster of the world. It’s there, and yet not there. Or more simply, uncertain.

The very cocoon was a product of this uncertainty, wasn’t it. Ending up on a tarmac like this where a repetition of circumstances in a completely different manner is adamant, I observed the situation more closely and nothing new was revealed. And now as I peer with new eyes and breathe with my new soul, I see nothing, and perhaps I see everything.

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