Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Stars... they shine so bright...

"Do you think we could stay here forever? Gazing at the stars?" she asked him with a smile on her face and wet eyes, nestled into his arms, lying on the dewy, soft, green grass in the cold, breezy night.

"I think so, if that's what you want, yes," he replied, kissing her forehead and hugging her more into himself.

"That's exactly what I want," and she looked into his eyes. She didn't know him, yet she knew he means something to her.

There was so much that she wasn't telling him. But she didn't need to. He understood exactly what her eyes were masking. She wanted that. She yearned for that all her life. To be understood. To be understood down to her deepest thought, her deepest soul.

She looked away, and he made her rest her head on his chest, cuddling her, protecting her, caring for her, giving her warmth. Stripping her of her worries, he wanted her to be at peace, he wanted her to experience happiness.

"Good things always come to an end," she said as a matter-of-fact.

"Do you think the stars will shine tomorrow as bright as they are today?"

"Why wouldn't they, love?"

"Coz they aren't real, just like you're not," she looked at him and smiled, as he vapourised into thin air, leaving her alone, on her bed, on a dark gloomy day. She woke up from her dream.

Friday, March 4, 2016

No name, no face...

When all is cold, as far as she could see,
music (like this) makes her soul breathe new air,
she sees the world, she sees closer,
she sees the disappointment that she failed to see earlier,
years of investment, all for naught,
years of efforts, all in vain,
a faint air of disgust fills her soul,
she knows what she must do, she can't be trapped.

No glue in the world can hold the fragments,
that she's made up of, barely sealed by her soul,
a thin line holds her back, from crashing everything down,
she's aware of the choice she makes, in every one of those moments,
where she chooses to go on, instead of destroying,
where she knows she knows better, than to waste away time.

How ironic can life be?
When she didn't care if she was alone, she needed no one,
she had people she could count on,
and now, when strings seem to fade away, every single one,
she screams under her breath, to be heard,
she witnesses this time, but there's no name, no face, that she can recall,
with whom she can share, share the dealings of her life.

She's been disappointed, she's been let down,
that is the way of life, but that is not what she's worried about,
she is cold, but she doesn't want to turn inhuman, just yet,
she knows there's no turning back, once she becomes that,
she knows she doesn't feel much, except what she sees,
except what she hears, except what she's been given.

With (this) music in her heart, her eyes well up,
she smiles in pain, for she knows her end,
if only she could live once, before she could die,
she doesn't want to stop living, while she is alive,
her pride's been crushed, her luck's been robbed,
with every subsequent hurdle, she's been reduced to a silhouette,
she can hope all she wants, for a positive day some day,
but may be some people are not blessed with that,
she walks on the path of nowhere, stuck in a loop,
walking on a barren land, devoid of emotion inside,
devoid of understanding from outsiders, devoid of time for her,
lifetime's treasures, have been reduced to nothing,
it's time to walk away, from all that she created,
it's time to leave behind, the life she had,
and that one moment can decide everything,
that one impulsive moment, when she cries, 'enough',
she's not there just yet, she's not there just yet,
but she will be soon, she knows she will be.


Wednesday, December 23, 2015

And off I go...

Sometimes life's supposed to make sense,
sometimes it just passes us by,
sometimes the angels descend to warn us,
sometimes we just turn a blind eye.

Everything everywhere walks ahead,
everything everywhere functions the way it should,
if only we had the choice to switch our specie,
if only we could be the masters of our lives.

What the eyes see, is not always beautiful,
what the ears hear, is not always melodious,
what the heart feels, is not always lovely,
what the soul undergoes, is not always on display.

The meaning is nothing, if not in life,
what does not make sense, cannot be possessed,
to wait for the end, is an uncomfortable time,
that seems unending, going on forever.

How did life ever dissipate this invisibly?
How did grasping the fragments never touch our hands?
How did living a life become so dramatic?
How did escaping it is inescapable at all?

If we were birds, we could just fly away,
create our own identity, create our own lives,
not connected to each one of us, we could have been happier than ever,
if we were birds, we could just visit the others.

Is this what we are meant to endure?
Is this what we all would wait to end?
Is there a solution as simpler as this?
Coz this is a solution I don't want to adopt.

If only we could sleep for a long time to come,
when the evolution could pass us by, no one to distract us,
when the agony evaporates, and the sun can shine bright,
if only there was no more of everything right now.

I'd like to fly high, I'd like to walk on air,
I'd like to walk to a far off land, never to turn back,
I'd like to own a small cottage, with greens and fruits and herbs,
I'd like to have a water stream close by, the sound of which flows,
I'd like to work and tire myself, and sleep like a sound cherub,
I'd like to put things around me, the kind that makes me happy,
I'd like to build my own little world, escaping which is an option,
maybe I'd leave one day waiting, in the hopes that day will come,
and an unfulfilled dream it will be, the kind that lingers forever,
if only there was an end, or a new beginning somewhere,
I'd go chasing at it in a moment, never to return forever.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Search...

A dissipating breeze blows around,
The strings that moved the hands vanish,
A chill of comfort, a pleasant atmosphere,
A world of unknown stares.

A spectator, a witness, never the protagonist,
A searcher, a wanderer, never the settler,
A free bird in the shadows of cold,
A mindless muse flying far abroad.

Searching for the meaning, that ties it all,
Searching for the calling, that's a cause to stay,
Can the vagabond ever be the settler?
Can the true passion ever be found?

If only the magic could fill the insides,
If only the power could yield some tricks,
If only the search could end some day
If only the heart could beat some more.