An Ode to Mongolia

If I were to die, I'd like to have the world in front of me. I'd like to give one last glance at the things that I have discovered and the ones I failed to. I'd like to feel the cool breeze of the mountains and watch the soils change color under the setting sun.

I'd like to lie on my back and gaze at the miles that I've left behind. The pastures and grasslands where my soul would roam free, and the mighty peaks that forbid yet tempt, the sweeping empires that were created and destroyed, the pillaged world that gave birth to civilizations. I'd want to witness the history of one man's vengeance and the non-polarity of war's morals; Where death means the beginning, and a beginning signals the end.

I'd like to die where the deserts cling to the mountains, where the grasses cushion the galloping war-horses. I'd like to die in the center of a world long gone, yet not forgotten, ruled by a king despised, yet a warrior worshiped.

Mongolia.

"Urban Life" Legend

Dazed and confused, and walking in circles.

The last month or so has been a lazy trip where I've just realized one thing. Time is rushing through me and leaving me out of the excitement.

Will be completing 3 years in the catacombs of Bangalore's air conditioned multinational back offices and the Legend is starting to yawn. The Legend is starting to poke, prod, and sneak peeks at the sun with its glistening eyes. The Legend is starting to die.
Circles, circles and black voids filled with silence.

Cloaked in black, the soul approaches the rows of unnerved efficiency and mental decline. Like a shadow it moves across the aisles towards the slave-masters and their machine brains. It's time for the soul to pull their plugs and save itself.

Crouches and waits, before it strikes. There are screams echoing through the emptiness in its head, telling it that it is too late to turn back time.

The screams will have to stop, the silence will have to return, and the void will have to be filled again.

The screaming will have to stop.

The soul will have to protect itself, prevent its unwanted metamorphosis into a corpse choked in plastic, reduced to a binary existence.

The screaming finally stops.