I sit down to write

I sit down to write.
I am never really sure whether I weave a story
or whether it is the story that weaves me.
It is creative some days
but frustrating in other ways
Some frustrations are just frustrations of the art
but some are peculiar to my heart.
Because real stories come from heart’s deepest recesses
where battles have scratched & gnawed , left imprints & abscesses,
I find it too hard to remember the pain
lest my heart should bleed again.
But then, I dread to make forgetting my aim
lest I should forget my own name.
So, I go on trying to balance
my doings, my writings, my being.
Even though I have learnt perchance:
“On love, on grief, on every human thing,
Time sprinkles Lethe’s* water with his wing. ”
I sit down to write.

Lethe*- In Classical Greek, Lethe literally means “forgetfulness” or “concealment” .
River Lethe is the one that souls on their way to heaven / purgatory drink from to forget their lives.
“On love, on grief, on every human thing,
Time sprinkles Lethe’s water with his wing. ” – Walter Savage Landor.

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