Cross Roads


The mirror in front of him is slightly fogged. Mostly because of the steam that is around him. But also because the smoke that rises from beneath. His vision, is altered between reality, and flashes of a surreal past. All fragmented together by the day dreaming boy that resides within his soul. His body hovers a few inches above the surface of the ground which is the center of a cross road. 4 paths leading in 4 different directions, which are further divided by further cross roads.

 

His voice is overshadowed by those within him. They are not loud, or haunting as always, but surprisingly silent. They have a message, he can hear it clearly. But they have no sound. It’s like a muted code. Only meant for him, for his eyes, for his imagination. The message is crystal, his understanding is not.

 

Within these flashes of confusion, there comes a pair of innocent eyes, of a 5 year old. The kid looks familiar, the kid is in fact his own childhood. He has a ball in his hand. And he is staring the man with a deadly freeze. Nothing could move this, not even giants that are capable of moving mountains, not this moment. The man and his childhood. His childhood questioning his arrival at this cross road. Not after the ones that were past.

 

The confusion is co-existent with this multitude of clarity. It’s purpose is simple and single in nature. To unsettle the present using the past as the juror, and the future as the unforeseen victim.

 

Cross Roads of life can be that way. Your past haunts you. Your future scares you. And you present, your present is the villain/hero. Hero. That’s what we all need don’t we. Someone to guide us, to save us, to show us and to shoulder us. To give us a clear purpose. Without purpose, we remain on one cross road after the other. Our entire journey seems frazzled because of the premonition that each one has to offer.

 

Yet, we all still come to the same point. A man hovering over a cross road center.

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Author: Sammy Wiseguy

Marketer, blogger, reader, Arsenal fan, frequently emotionally wounded cricket fan

1 thought on “Cross Roads”

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