I am the pause

He carries a poker face everywhere. Ask him why there is an absence of any expression on his face, and he would say "this is how I am"

Sometimes when you know an intriguing person but do not know much about him; when you have nothing better to do with your life than to stalk that person just to know what ugly or great thing that he is made up of, are those times when the emptiness in you tries to fill up the void with that person's persona.

Evidently, our poker face guy does the same thing. He goes on in his life with a poker face and observes his self, his intriguing self because he has nothing better to do in his life. Who is he, he tends to ask himself all the time. Is he the doer? or is he the thinker? Is he the only one alive on this earth and the rest a mere apparitions of his nightmares and fantasies? Is he the God or is he the Satan? Who is he?

"I am I" a voice emerges within "and I am the breath"

He starts observing his breath. Ups of the warm flow of pleasant sensation of being and downs of the want of that pleasant sense of being and then a pause.

"Who are you?" he asked that voice in irritation which was covered with millions of layers of plastered agitations "I see lots of ups and downs in that breath, but who are you?"

"I am the pause" said the calm but flat voice "and I am the observer of those ups and downs"

And he realises how he got his poker face. He is after all what he is.


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