Monday 30 June 2014

Desire



To,
Hold you now
Liberate then,
Own you now
Disown then,
Belong to you now
Un-belong then,
Heal you now
Wound then,
Miss you now
Ignore then,
Be you now
Nothing then…

To be,
Your light in your darkness
Your path in your wandering
Your music in your dance
Your lyrics in your song
Your patience in your tests
Your humility in your victory
Your strength in your distress
Your solace in your storm
Your hug in your tears
Your voice in your silence
You in your loneliness
Your soul in your journey


Monday 23 June 2014

Game Of Wits



Been so many eons. So many roles. So many stages. So many masks. So many lights and so many darknesses. Indoctrinated to pick the bag up and keep moving. Walking past thirsty streams. The fragile unheard mountains that seem so insufficient to tell tales. The entranced nightingales in the jungle that beckon to you to hear the song resonating in your blood. The lost blue skies that challenge your limits. And we keep doing it. All of us. All of it. Winter after winter. Night after night. Without knowing why we do it and many times even how we do it. Surprising others and astonishing ourselves of the lifeless lives we live. Every breath, every heart beat. Inching us closer to the abyss we circumvent. The harder we endeavour to run away from the void, the closer we seem to get.

The streams fail to quench our thirst but often reflect our images. The broken pieces of our picture. The lost parts of our machine. Tempt us to gaze at the reflection one more time, everytime. And everytime we do that entice us to touch it, feel it, talk to it. Ask where it has been wandering all this time? Did it never feel the need to need us? Will it stay with us forever now?

Again we make the mistake we have been committing through this arduous journey. Mistake of wanting to talk to it. Mistake of wanting to meet it. Mistake of wanting to hear it. Mistake of wanting to read it. But this time not repeating one mistake. Of holding it back. Of trying to possess it. Of trying to tie it down. Though unseen strings seem to be stronger than any visible to the human eye.

Why is it so difficult to accept that all are flickering the same flame of one sun. exuding the same milk-fragrance of one mother, exhibiting the same energies of the one cosmos, same undying search for something we don’t know, all waiting for that magician to cast its spell and dazzle us. That tussle of few restraining others and yet some more few trying to release ourselves of all bonds fearing that such threads will cripple us. But do such yarns weaken us? Don’t they prove to be a source of infinite strength?

It’s all a ‘Game of wits’. A game where misconceptions, deceit, lies, stabbing are found in plethora. But then that’s where a King is sifted from the Nobles. Because only a King, a Warrior of the light is gifted with a third eye to differentiate a fox from a Horse.

A Warrior knows that a real Horse will never suffocate her own reflection. Will set it free for she knows that setting it free will free her as well. Seeing her reflection reach higher planes makes her experience quintessential peace and serenity, not an easy task to accomplish by all means. And that unburdens her of the debts of this journey. Attracting the pieces of her soul back to her. Forever…

Thursday 19 June 2014

Still As If



Sometimes you have to leave things aside and pretend to ignore them. Not because you want to but because there is nothing much you can do. As if you cant see them, hear them, feel them. As if they can’t see you, hear you, feel you, breathe you, live you. It’s something like a flower. You have had enough of appreciating it’s colour. Now you want to see it in another form. Say become a fragrance, a perfume. And keep faith that when you return your attention to it after a while, you find it in exactly the same form as you expected. As you wanted and hoped. You have to keep faith that time will not disappoint you. That it will get better and not worsen. That you will be greeted with happiness when you go back to the fold, tired, weathered, ruffled, broken and exhausted. In the hope that things have improved. That even with the transformation the perfume still holds the earlier essence of the flower. That you can still connect with the smell. That its fragrance still reminds you of its once deep colour. That it still has the same effect of gratifying your conscious and sub-conscious. That it still appeals to your inner spirit. That it still enslaves your spirit and keeps you yearning for more, more than ever before. That it still makes you forget the mundane and still draws you towards a sublime existence. That it still has the power to introduce you to your once lost self. Like no one else… That you still find your earlier self waiting for you gazing stark into your dry eyes…


As if only you can see it, hear it, feel it. As if only it can see you, hear you, feel you, breathe you, live you….

Monday 16 June 2014

Jar



You see that bright shining star
Close enough though looks so far
Holds colourful and glittery jar
Containing Old unhealed scar,
Scar that gives pain and memories
Of forgotten times in histories
Remind of the bonds ever shared
Those now seem somehow glared.

Friday 13 June 2014

Mine as Well



The lily that blossoms in your flesh
The wound that seethes in your heart
The throb that stings in your nights
The song that pounds in your veins
The rebel that defies in your nerves
The strife that brawls in your soul
Is not just yours
But mine as well

Wednesday 11 June 2014

A Spell



A Spell so unique
It never repeats
A Spell so warm
It melts your norms
A Spell so stark
It braces your roots
A Spell so magical
It turns your world around
A Spell so anchored
It never leaves
A Spell so formidable
It leads to your soul
A Spell so binding
It unites with your source
A Spell so staunch
It’s all that you ever want




Tuesday 10 June 2014

Wake Up



When fire goes out, you feel the cold
When air recedes, you feel the torment
When light dims, you feel the darkness
When hand withdraws, you feel the pain
When freedom cringes, you feel the cage
When pond depletes, you feel the thirst
When reflection transits, you feel the span

And You suddenly wake up whether you want to or not…

Thursday 5 June 2014

Abetting



Abetting her glimpse when vision cheated her
Abetting her lilt when music abandoned her
Abetting her prevail when faith dejected her
Abetting her tread when trail ostracised her
Abetting her whistle when lyrics disappointed her
Abetting her breathe when breath resisted her
Abetting her live when life renounced her