Morning Pages – The Book Of Life

Of Morning Pages

The soft smell of the gentle morning rain tickling my eager lungs, and the clangs of joyful platters abundant in earthy gifts seeped into the elemental morning symphony. Shy French balconies peaked over my head begging for a moment of attention, begging for a pinch of contemplation. My finger tips warm with anticipation rushed over the glyphs of antiquity, out of focus, away from me and plunged into the delicious nectar of the muses. While I sat dazed and reeking of bordeaux coloured hymns drunk on words that sobered with love, channelling the revelations of the ether into the tongue of man.

The fall

A fictional morning pages sketch, inspired by the photo below:

After it got sickened by pride and weakened by tyranny, rising empires have been crawling and gnawing on its limbs for millennia. Despite its consuming gangrene, the sickened giant outlasted many of its carrion enemies. One after the other, they fell, piling their decaying carcasses next to the moaning ruins till one day, after five thousand years of decomposition, it finally succumbed to its parasites. The fourth seat of the heavens, the prime branch of orthodoxy, the capital of the empire, Damascus, has fallen.

Of Morning Pages

I have skipped a day.

I have lost a beat.

The lost ripple ruined me.

The serenity of my monotonic symphony got disrupted.

Within the ebb, I got lost; I lived without a purpose, confused, anxious, alone.

In the shadows between the waves of imagination, I felt cold.

But never again. Never again shall I sit idle. Never again shall I waiver. Never again shall I be eclipsed.

Arise in the name of the muses.

Arise in the name of Apollo.

Hold the sword of humanity and march: march into the unknown and conquer the oblivion of your meagre existence; march with the greats hand in hand and page by page. Write on the pages of time, write for the future, write for us.

Stand up, my child. The future will, surely, be yours shall you embrace your present. Ripple by ripple shall you create till, one day, the advent of the surge.