Plaster saint

'Love yourself before all men, for everything in the world rests on self-interest'- Dostoevsky

There are few mantras that require to be chanted at least a trillion times so that they get registered by your brain and get chiseled on the pillars of long term memory. Practicing them require greater efforts for I believe humans are born naive instilled with an ever-ready- to- change mindset. We change fast but unlike the seasons which are predictable and pre-programmed, our transitions are often drastic. Some blame it on the genes, others demand incarceration of environment. Where is my time to search for a cause? The smartest ones survive the rat race.

22 years and I’m still running…at times Time moves slow, at other times He rushes denying me chance to gulp in a puff of air. The existence of asynchrony is the only limiting factor. At times I used to be blind and deaf, but that was out of sheer ignorance. I mistook the World to be far superior to Heaven. I was too artless to see the demons who were veiled in the mist. The great tutor called Time who sent his army of tides against me instilled smartness.

No more do I open my eyes or strain my ears without reason. I live in a world of sanctimonious bastards. I’ve seen him empathize, listened to him blather philosophy, and opened the doors whenever he ran off to serve the destitute. The dusk uncloaked all that he cared about…Himself. I wonder what he’s trying to prove. It’s kind of a poor joke. It’s fun watching people. Everyone errs, else why are we branded as Humans? Life is all about serving one’s conscience. Do no Harm as far as possible, spread smiles as long as they don’t give you a strain. Compassion in all its purity may be discovered someday. But who is going to waste time waiting for that day? I don’t have seconds to spare…it’s me and just me, at least I’m trying hard to pretend that it’s so.


Everybody has a story to tell, but I have too many…
Not sure if too long is the time that I have in hands,
But yeah there is a time for all, I’ll call it the Time of times.

Who knows, what you’ve read might be a prologue,
To the story of a hypocrite.

(ps. This ain't a promise...as I always say, Promises n kids are alike...easy 2 give but hard 2 deliver)