Unrequitted

It's always the case. Something remains left to be scraped at the bottom of the tank. That last ounce of something that you know, that which remains. Not even in drops. but as fumes. That's all that's left. But it's there. 

It may be a thought, a string of words, a dream, or something left incomplete. Hopes that get filled with empty spaces. Storms before calm, calms before the storms, both of them coming together to annihilate each other. Think of it this way. The circle encompassing Yin & Yang. Take the image that comes to mind, and create its negative. White out the black spaces, black out the white ones. Now place the original circle and its negative on top of each other.

What was to be a symbol of balance, harmony, parallel and equally matched forces, now remains a hazy circle of some shade of gray. Neither white, nor black. Lost between transition of white to black, or black to white. Like it matters either way.

Inside a dark chamber, with a lid on top for a door, the only way in, the only way out, there are a bunch of thoughts that peer out into the open through a small gap in the door's lining. They can't see much except for a streak of light. But that feels like hope. Suddenly, it looks like there is someone coming towards the chamber. A dark figure. Dark not because of the person's complexion. Just that the light in the background only allows for one to see the silhouette of the person. The person comes, opens the lid, looks inside, stares at his thoughts like he'd never seen them, wonders for a moment, looks at his thoughts again, just like he did the first time, albeit this time with a skeptical familiarity. But suddenly, it looks like the person was being called by someone outside. This person responded to the call with a shout, yelling something inaudible. But that broke the chain of thought that started him/her on the path of familiarity to his  thoughts that lay in that dungeon, waiting for him. And so, he slammed the lid of chamber, and scurried to the one calling him on the outside. 

A thought is just an action that never manifested itself. That which lay shut inside that dungeon. Trapped, lost or forgotten amid all the other voices, fears, and noises of the world outside. It remains in silence, with the only hope that it shall be uttered, molded into shape, before the end of time.

Someone walking the tightrope for the first time will not smile. All that the person needs to be made to believe is that it's not the first time. Then watch them smile. Another thing that lingers in the mind... Why is it so difficult to walk away from something like you never knew it? Look at matter, for instance. The smaller you become in relation to it, till the point that you are small enough to make quarks appear bigger than you are, considering quarks have a physical tangibility, the more you realize that all of matter, or at least most of it is empty spaces. But that doesn't take away from it that if you resize back to normal, the object into which you were looking at in your "Plank sized" avataar, the object will seize to exist, how much ever free space it is filled with. 

Okay. Something's Incomplete.
Crap! My major project!