The end of summer

The silence made him realize how elicit he has became.

Yet another time, he turned the pages of his life to read it, re-read it. He often does this. Silence gets him there.

Of all, this time, he chooses to write it down on a different note with a hope to burn it down and look ahead and let go the bygone.

He was confused. Still at his position with a race of thoughts on a live track. He wished, if only he knew the parameters like which one to bet on or where the begin or finish line was. Alas! He is the master architect of the track and the race. He let his thoughts onto it. Was he winning? Forget winning, did he get the game or did he mind to ask the rules'

He continued, he continued at a much faster pace. Irony has waved a checkered flag carrying artificialities. He continued enjoying the adrenaline rush or call it happiness with truth as a fuel.

Behest truth is what has kept the/his game alive.

She wished, if only, he knew the rules! Period.

Written on an occasion. Happy birthday, dear friend!