A Different Kind Of Silk

It’s a different kind of silk. You have seen nothing of this kind before. I had not seen something like this too, before.

It’s a fine fabric, finer than the finest cob web, the spider silk, almost invisible and softly unseen. Who would have guessed an unknown unseen variety of unseen silk had so much power in it to change so much in so complex a mind?

When you walk the road, long, winding as the road slowly unwinds with every step yours, when fears sprout in your mind, the silken thread bundle runs by your side telling the world about the road you walked. Or to remind you the way when you come back from wherever you go.

As I told you before, it’s a different kind of silk. You have seen nothing of this kind before.

You can see the traces of these minute threads in the fabric of your dream. Remember those colourful and gleeful dreams of moments and men of yesterday that made you long for those moments time and again? Yes, they are all woven out of threads of this different kind of silk. You do not use hard detergent to wash the stains off these threads. They are not stains in the first place. This kind of silk comes with patterns on it. These patterns do not make immediate sense, but they do when they wish to or when you walk away and turn around to take a second look. The patterns are abstract most times. They are scenes of fear, joy and sorrow, almost all from yesterday and tomorrow. None wants to see patterns of today, because today already is. And that is a mistake we’d never bother about.

And I immerse myself in so many clichés. And then I pride myself. Huh!

Oh, not to move away from what I wanted to talk about, it’s a different kind of silk. You have seen nothing of this kind before.

When a single ray of sunshine of a mind passes through a single thread of this silken thread, rainbows are born, born, born, rainbows are born, oh so beautiful rainbows are born. And even a mind that thinks of those rainbows, like mine at this moment, they all jump up and down in joy, just by the mere thought of the rainbows. When a single ray of sunshine of a mind passes through the screen woven out of this silk, new worlds are born, new worlds of joy, new landscapes of joy are all born for a mind to live in, to rejoice and to be reborn.

That different kind of silk, that different kind of silk.

It’s a different kind of silk. You have seen nothing of this kind before. I had not seen something like this too, before.