chd to ahmedabad journey

My head is running into all directions. with so many questions.

why is music so peaceful, always?
why is this little thing irking me so much?
why does the heart always want a little more? just a little more..

written during the journey in train from Chandigarh to Ahmedabad-
(sleeper class, RAC.. I couldn't sleep, so was looking out of the window and listening to songs on Ipod)

the moon is looking like a bowl made up of Gold.
The beauty of a song is it immortalizes time. As I am listening to this song, I am standing in front of the singer, looking at him singing these words and living in the past when this song was recorded. long back. so many years ago. I am feeling, perhaps exactly, what he was feeling then. Isn't it strange and magical?

Earth spins, completes a circle. Something of that sort defines existence. I don't know. It's so clear, yet hazy.
I see it from a distance, the moment I try to touch it, it disappears.

I kept my fists tightly clenched for about two hours continuously. When I opened them, there were crescent marks left over my palms by my nails. They looked like little moons. I didn't know what they mean. I just want to write about them though. why?



why are train journeys so enlightening? and beautiful?

I live in music.
music lives in me.
what is it?
remains a mystery.

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