The storm is past, all the dust has settled down, a strange silence shrouds everything around me, a silence which unsettles me, i could hear my heart beating down under. I am not used to silence, put me in storms and i'll survive, for i have lived through hailstorms of fire and metal, prayed, pained and scarred yet very much alive. Your mind does not allow you to think upon wounds you sustain while in such tempests, you are automated, your responses hardwired from your instincts and your adrenaline. And yet when the rush is gone, that moment when your mind takes over, all that unbearable withdrawal, when every wound screams out in agony. Matters not if healed long back or not, they are fresh in mind. Deep down i am scared of what comes afterwards, an overwhelming feeling of surviving through, all those regretful moments when you could have tried to help your comrades and when you were trying to stay alive. All those moments when you part ways with your companions and become strangers again. That bond which you make in those trying times are hard to break, but somewhere you know it won't last and so you suppress yourself and try to appear rash and tough. All because you know you don't want to get attached to those who won't last. But all this passivity can't help. I just wish it rains and gives my ears to listen to something. Silence kills me...
~For a soldier I listed, to grow great in fame, And be shot at for sixpence a day.~
1 comment:
this is so cool man..
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