Where is the space for eccentricity when the mind is clogged up with mediocrity??

A mundane activity which absorbs every bit of the grey cells and don't use any of them, like a Trojan (even my thoughts are corrupted.. phew!!) sucking up all the enthusiasm, creativity( absurdity is a better word!) like a Dementor and drilling in a sense of fatigue at the end of the day.

Where is the space for new relationships when the heart is longing for the old ones??

An overflowing Nostalgia filling your heart and giving you moments of happiness and hurting at the same time. The pointed arms of time trying to empty the heart pricking some holes in it but the nostalgia is overbearing and intense like the incessant rains.

Where is the space for a purpose or meaning when the life has turned mechanical??

Life turning into a paper printing machine, printing papers everyday knowing not what they print and printing more papers, frequently oiled, occasionally repaired and finally replaced with better working ones.

The mind might be blocked, the heart filled up and life still printing papers but everything has to move on, continue trailing the path where the mediocrity might give way to creativity, it can get all bright and sunny with the nostalgia evaporated and emptied, and may be life could very well turn into a painting brush..

Life has to move on…