Realism in the practical world is a notion, which has blurred our consciousness and psyche in myriad ways .
We strive for truth, but find it aversive, the moment we find it.
Realism is a thorny rose, which tries to abrade the skin of fantasy, once you caress it with utmost excitement and hope. It’s not futile to go through the process, just not a rosy endeavour.
When I sowed that seed of innocence and empathy into the soil-bed of my consciousness, it failed to thrive. But when the same seed was nurtured by expectations / desires/normalcy/love/emotional indifference of others , the seed of life grew.
It grew to be a tall plant , blossoming now and then. But as a Gardener, I wasn’t happy.
You may ask why ?
The tree wasn’t a strong one, tall but hollow, full of senescent leaves, not well rooted.
She was aging prematurely.
One day , a storm came , circled around it and disappeared into a thin stream of air.
She was standing there , but without a soul now. She was gone.