We weave a dream, piece by piece in the realms of night, waking up with a smile and setting off to make it a reality. We spent an entire day working for it; the day turns into days, weeks, months, years and all the way to an entire lifetime. We look back to that night and realize that our efforts to stitch all the pieces together have not fabricated into what we had actually desired and now we sit staring at it, calculating all that we had spent giving it a shape, every drop of sweat in the scorching heat and every time we shivered working upon it during the cold nights of winter. A sigh and we feel drained of every bit of energy. In stitching every piece together, we had traded out PEACE and now our soul complains, at this very point, the brink of crossing the limit of Life into an endless slumber.

"What wrong did I do?" He asked rubbing his knees with his old hands, feeble as the dry leaf. He concentrates more on silence, trying to hear an answer. In it he hears his heart beating, yelling out a story of an entire lifetime.

"You were so occupied tailoring your desires that you did not look within yourself." He stands up, shivering his age old body ready to fall off on the floor like an ancient building.

"Who...who is it?" He asked, but no reply, just the moon staring at him from the window wide open, the moonlight dressing the white marbled floor. He sits down, his breaths so strong they seemed to crash into the walls, and that heart beat! He put his hands on his ears.

"Is it of any use? I am inside you, I am you, and you cannot prevent me from speaking to you." He shut his eyes, tighter, as if he wanted to turn himself blind, pressing his ears even more;
"STOPP it! It's enough!" He yelled, into the emptiness of the room.

"Why should I stop now? Now that I have the chance to speak! Oh it's so good to be free after ages of suppression, you had always tried to suffocate me and I submitted to it, thinking that you will someday let me speak. But you never did; now, you are weak, unable to suppress me."

He could not stop it from speaking, he just couldn’t, the more he tried the stronger it yelled back at him.

"What do you want?" He said, throwing himself helplessly on his chair.

"I want myself." Was a calm reply.

"Myself? But you said you are me." His eyes wide open as he replied in great confusion.

"Yes, stand up, look at yourself in the mirror, and tell me do you recognize yourself?" It requested in a very polite way which made forced him to do as he was requested. With tired steps he walked to the mirror and watched a stranger in the mirror, his face lay covered with shadows; his eyes depicted a Sea at storm, his arms lay stretched out as if they asked to be given something.

"Is that me?" Tears rolled down his eyes before he could complete his sentence.

"No, it is what you have tailored yourself to be, submitting to the desires. Do you feel sorry for yourself?" He felt the cold wind blow past him, freezing his tears on his cheeks.

"I do." He replied, shoulders hung down as if they were about to fall off, lips which drew sadness upon his face and eyes that watered to let it flourish.

"Will ask for forgiveness for making a mockery of the blessing you had been given? From Life?" The moon hid away behind a cloud and the room lay dark, very dark. He looked around and slowly moved back to the chair, he stood there for sometime and then sat down.

"I have sinned Lord, forgive my sins, I dived so deep into my desires that I forgot about Life, forgot about the beauty that lay in Peace and not in pieces that I stitched." Tears rolled down freely, as if he had found a release, he had discovered himself. A nightingale perched itself on the window sill, chirping a sweet melody, he smiled looking at it and as he did so the moon revealed itself, its shine painting the floor in its calming light. He tried to get up and watch the moon, but he could not feel his feet, he felt his body growing numb, colder every instant.

"Is it my time?" He asked himself, in a very low whisper, but loud enough to reach the depths of his soul.

"Shhh.... it is done." A voice came from the very same depths to which he had been talking to, a warm breeze embraced him and a smile grew wider over his face. He watched the moon through the open window and it hid away into the darkness. It wasn’t the cloud that turned everything dark, but it was death that had blocked his eyes from seeing any light of this world. But there was a smile still there upon his face, the nightingale came to the chair, perching at the armrest, signing a soft tune for sometime and then flew back; as if it had come to pay the last homage to the man~

Sardar Mohkim Khan

The End

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