Jarvis 4

We stood there witnessing an endless abyss of time that rushed through our collective subconscious , hinting a lonesome onset . Perhaps a calculative series of psychological safety measures inherited by the inordinate illusions prevalent in all our unspoken dreams. Beyond the oblivion these dreams flow without an apparent reason , without a soul and without a name. We embrace this resonance of unknown in our own subjective ways yet oblivious to the most obvious . Existence is random whose randomness is wider than a black hole that can wrap millions of suns under its dark wings.

Indeed , this world is just a fragment of ordinary perception like the above experiencing itself randomly.

Jarvis 3

A craving held between the lines of absolute wrath of the soul and a timeless serenity. It calls for the end of everything that is yet to come, but not before the inception of the time that is glaring towards infinity. Its somewhere between these lines a universe exits that holds the answer to all our collective unanswered questions.

But on a second thought , this universe is insanely hollow. An empty space with endless stretch of black space filled with nothing but a stark emptiness. Not even a sound , a breathe or a vision. Only a lost thought deep inside the synapses of the mind. Solace within a void speaking to the deaf ears evolutionary redemption. Indeed a haunting silence prevails there once attended. An unanswered death and life devoid of meaning . A beautiful abyss.


An extract from the Black Book

Jarvis II

When myths of dead ends gets busted , a strange feeling rushes through the veins. Cynical smiles comes naturally all night long , as I sit in the darkness and recollect then not so seemingly apparent misdeeds of the past. My heart has withered away along with the moving time , thoughts systematically hollowed up as the mind is kept alive for survival purposes , thoroughly utilized by the capitalists with much entrenched redundancy in every aspect of life.

I stare down into the end of the horizon , that has no promises held for anyone. A senseless life we all lead much oblivious to the inordinate abundance of whatever reality has to offer. A deeply sedated being concluded for every notion and the inculcation of false morality into a vice society has led to deprivation and scarcity of almost everything except with a touch of reality in essence.

An extract from the Black Book - Ragpicker , Oct 15 , 1984.

Jarvis

Creation awaits for another nocturnal onset of radiant impurity. Deformed mind seeks safety inside premonitions born out of casted feelings like the leftovers of prisoners in a war camp. Indeed a vision blurred beyond ambiguous annihilation , this imagination has placed a bet with its own damnation. Only one question resides in my mind today - Are we descending towards infinity or is it just me safely seeing the world through the eyes of the tornado.

An extract from the Black Book - Ragpicker , Oct 21 , 1773.

Inordinate

An alienation from the known , I stare into this cold silence without much hope , without a say and without a smile. A straight face towards an endless regime of pain and suffering bottled inside , like a volcano trying to erupt itself for more than a thousand years. A clueless life leading towards an abyss of oblivion without even bothering to ask what do this soul needs. Prolonged prevalence of induced emptiness of the heart and a thoughtless life has lead to such consequences.

For long I have tried to remember at least one single moment in my life , when I was truly happy. Stressed my memory back till the kindergarten. I found none. Never felt a soul close to me , never got touched by the blessings of a divine , never felt happy , nor remorse , nor sad neither appreciated the small good things around me... just a static line that flowed through the black heart. Indeed , as the night grows darker I stare into this bloody hell only to be reminded there is no hope.

An extract from the Black Book - Ragpicker , 29th March , 2011.