People always make the mistake of thinking art is created for them. But really, art is a private language for sophisticates to congratulate themselves on their superiority to the rest of the world. As my artist’s statement explains, my work is utterly incomprehensible and is therefore full of deep significance. - Calvin

Thursday, August 12, 2010

If I could, I think, I would have chosen you.
The power to choose was with me, all along
but still I know you would never believe if I told you
that it was not me who was the one making the choices.

Many a times I feel, the choice for me was made
long long ago, even before I knew about decisions and their manifestations.
Long before I knew to think, rethink, long before I knew the power of my decisions 
over me, over you, over all of us.

In a vain, silly moment I decided without knowing that I was getting
into something I could never change, without wanting with all my heart.
Even to dare change it would alter who I was, who I am and who I will be.
The moment like one of those where passing by a field you discover the colour purple and stand transfixed.

It is my decision, but I feel no love towards it.
I don't feel enough hatred to tear away from it.
And I know my existence is stuck in a limbo.
Each breath tells me the tale of being hung forever and whispers ghastlily that its my own doing.

I listen to it and close my eyes, look upwards, look inwards and just die.

2 comments:

A~~ said...

So morbid, it's beautiful.

Jyo said...

I can so very well relate with it.. for once upon a time...