Allegropolis. Episode Two. The Wholly Trinity.

I wait. Stretching myself out on one of the long wood and cast iron park benches. The bench is cold. No one usually sits and waits. Waiting is in the temporal. The past. No pauses for the future any longer. The wooden backrest bites into my back. Cold venomous reality. The electric trains are cold embodiments of ruthless efficiency. Silent as a cocked gun waiting to explode. But all i hear is an implosion of silence. The muted conundrum of bustling voices do not count. I throw my head back, and watch the sunshine pierce in like coloured spears of joy through the stained glass ceiling. City of Joy indeed.

I wonder. Had we all forgotten what joy means? Maybe it meant the same all along. Is joy satisfaction, being content with who or what you are, what you have? Life without the complaint box and the "Articles once bought need not be returned/exchanged" tag. Or does it mean anything further... is it that long forgotten sense of euphoria, that half-drugged break from reality when the stained glass ceiling seems all so brighter and soaked deeper and thicker in colour than it actually is? But then, can the ceiling get any more brighter. Its already washed in the mid-morning sunshine. Can joy actually exist in the City of Joy, where things cant get any better?!

Forgive. Forsake. Forget.

The Wholly Trinity.

The three incinerating truths etched on the scratch-proof grazed steel walls of every alley, penthouse and ghetto in Allegropolis.

Forgive for you wish to be forgotten.

Forsake 'cause thyself is all that is real.

Forget... well... forget 'cause the past never exists, nor existed.

We are all unfettered creatures soaking in the warm sunshine and strained colours of unalleviating joy, caught in a limbo of satisfied imperfection. Here lies the precursor to perfection, taking pride in being what you are. Perfect becomes what you are. And it cant cant get better than this.

The park bench is warm now. I lift myself up. My face is stained in myriad of streaming colours as i smile. Allegropolis, there is something about the city that makes me smile. And i am the last cynic left in the world.

Three Vials of Triviality....

Alice drank the first one and grew big or small or whatever and finally did end up in Wonderland. Ah! And there unfolded a series of unfortunately trivial events, so trivial we now consider them mad. Poor Alice and her vial of LSD. Nice enthralling psychedelia; and Wonderland no less...
The second vial was really running short of substance. It was just about as mind-bending as the acid that Alice so devoutly drained down her bowels. And damn the bluddy leaking bottom. Vials really should be made of tempered glass or some shite!! (I really wouldn't want to run into one of 'em. They are quite sharp even otherwise, and add a bit of temper, and they could very well be ferocity in transparency..) Anyway, to get back to trivial matters, from the leaky bottom of our second vial seeped out the few last drops of truth. And they dripped down and plopped into the azure depths of the ocean. Maybe the entire ocean drained out of the vial. But anyway no one cared to own the vial. And the brave few who tried (and yeah, they did have a good audience to perform in front of) found it too bitter and promptly spat it out. There was not much need of it anyway.
And ah the third vial... It was filled with a liquid (or was it a gas) so light and transparent, you can hardly see it. From what i heard it used to be thick and mucky earlier. And so large, they called it a gene pool. Its grown thinner. Like hair, it thins out with age. And now we hardly feel it, though we exist, like that vapour-water in the vial. Scentless, tasteless, colourless and formless... We look like the vial 'cause we live inside it. And we choose to stay inside, away from scents, tastes and colours.
Maybe we should drop the vial and check whether it cracks...