Maybe it is,else how could the night leave without a sign of protest at the arrival of the first rays of the day,dispelling the gloom without a rattle.
The storm subsides at the sight of an unseen influence,leaving a trail of devastation still with the submission of a beaten battalion.Was it raging with the knowledge that its destruction would not be everlasting, that life would replenish itself with rebellion ?
One wonders whether life would still be the same if one knew of all the defeats and dejection,could there be a premonition to warn one about the impending negation by life, the imminent rejection ?
Thrill,yes that is what they say life is all about,thrill of the moment,thrill of the unknown,even the mundane exhilarates them.Needless to say,despair and their paths never cross.What would be the measure of thrill if they had an intuition of loss ?
Every sentence in the prose that is man’s life ends in a question.Yes,it it prose devoid of the lucidity of verse,guided by ulterior motives and foresighted gambles, replete with instances when it does not take its true course.
Although one has a lot of dilemmas to reason out ,the intuition of loss would plant in our mind the very seed of self-doubt.Yes,it is the intuition of loss which keeps us from getting lost,lost in the blinding light of never-ending certainty, the deafening noise of ceaseless adulation.
The thought of knowing that one will not win,yet believing that one might not lose is the fruit of intuition of loss,soaked in encouragement,veiled in deception.