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The Pleasure in Calamity

Ritom Sen

I was once sitting on a cloud, hypnotized by the beauty of my proximity.

In love with familiarity and comfortable with my projections.

Abruptly, I spun into infinite disarray.
I had suddenly fell from my high altitude into a pit of anguish.
With only two legs bearing my fall, I was broken.
Trying to find the other half of my heart, and the time to heal my bones, I fell deeper into the valley.
I stared through the shadow of death and saw only my thoughts shrouded inside darkness.
Without light to reveal the way, my vision was captivated by gloom. The murkiness had deluded my sight.

Avoiding catastrophe, I griped onto life assiduously.
I remembered that to return to elevation, I had to climb this rope through adversity.
Despite my shattered physicality and mental malady, to overcome the eerie abyss I recognized it was essential to carry the burden of distress on my back as I blindly held onto the thin string of hope.
Hoping I would get pulled back up one day Hoping my addiction to persistence would save me.

I waited with perseverance.
And eventually a figure of my perceived naive and irrational optimism pulled me up from the depths into the light.
I grew here;
The buds of my convictions started germination and out bloomed the flowers of my destiny.

Knowing I’ve seen the worst;
Aware that I’ve faced the nadir of my sufferings and still constructed a belief which incepted growth, I was no longer frightened by misfortune.
Actually, through my fallacies I realized misfortune was fictitious.
The definition was truly a figment of my tunneled imagination. The concept was misconstrued.
I comprehended that my losses had manufactured an opportunity for winning;
I fell from my peak only to climb higher.

Now I sit here, on a cloud soaring far above the previous, with my heart finally pieced together, and my bones newly aligned
Reminiscing on the treacherous past.
Observing the beauty of the distance.
Appreciating the pleasures of my calamity.