Today I am not sewing a dress Maa
Instead I am breaking the seams off
Causing flair to fall and threads to be visible
Today i am not walking alone Maa
Instead in the crowd with monotonous walk
Causing myself to blend in without standing out
Today I realised Maa, words cut deeper
scarring the delicate flesh
engraved on heart, I am bruised
Today I break rules Maa
Not listening or caring
I’m breaking through the waves
Clashing with the winds of doubt
So one day I’m not the one to listen..
“Today I am not sewing a dress Maa
Instead I am breaking the seams off “
Morning sun is like a warm hug in this cold weather,
A cup of coffee is not enough anymore,
To mellow this angst-filled(distressed) soul,
Trembling hands try to find something to hold on to,
Dithered, it misses support and falls into quicksand
Still tarried the heart believes…
In worry of future it still does not forget.
Archaic, tired limbs carry the reverie
Pushover but not one to give up,
It cannot help ; the promise is made and hope tethered,
Don’t be burdened weary knight,
Even if the trigger pulls I’ll be waiting at start,
In the darkest night waiting for brightest star,
Tarried the heart still believes.
I saw a swan when I closed my eyes
I looked down and found a potted plant become an ashtray
On top of traffic light a crow took a seat
Trees by the sidewalk left barren sans nest
Virtue and wisdom settled in smoke
Constellations drift, a dream away
Wretched condition, dial it down
I breath toxic,
I dispel it out.
I know a man who wants to die. A man who spent his entire life in a vague mist of daily chores. Never was he interested in what life has to offer. Never had I seen such a waste of talent.
He didn’t put much thought to others around him. As if concentrating only on his own welfare can keep the equilibrium of the world. To him written words are sense of understanding; work an ethical drama in which he played the lead and to raise a family, mandatory convention of society. So he earned an honest meagre piece of bread and never took a bribe or holiday. Also, he never tried to better his life as he was content,
He married a woman no less then a princess with her beauty, intelligence and haughty behaviour. Not because he fell in love with her but because their family arranged the match. The princess was supposed to be an ideal woman to raise a family with. But his dream actually did not extent to raising a family. You see he was pampered spoilt beyond comparisons while his dreams shattered because his parents were scared they would loose him. Just like Rapunzel not allowed to venture into unknown territories for one’s selfish reason; or like Sleeping Beauty not to get his finger pricked by a needle as he will fall into infinite slumber.
In his old age he speaks of death in respite. A relief from pain in which he lived for half of his life. The pain always alluded in his stomach troubling him sometimes he said for a day, then days to months but never this pain receded. Why didn’t the pain receded if he took all his medications on time and with proper diet? And as he walked many his age looked at him in envy for the old man could walk. Still it was not and could never be enough for him but why? Maybe the pain which alluded him was not in his stomach but in his mind. He seemed uneasy in company always preferring the old kins over new chums and sometimes old kins were too much. In large gathering you could see his lined-face in anxiety. His hands moving along from his head to cheeks in wonder. And it is then he actually seemed in pain. People were loud with their pleasantries, questions, and raucous laughter. He never felt alive in anybody’s company not even in the princess company. So, he wants to die.
Envy is a sign of sin. To envy is to have insatiable desire and discontent towards others happiness but does one have to be discontent when another is happy? I envy; I sin everyday. I envy my mother of having a beautiful family. I envy my friends who are moving ahead in their life. I envy the stranger who is smiling over an ice cream cone. I envy the ease with which people go on with their life knowing their path. And I felt sorry for myself because I lack the courage which people are so used to and apt with. Though I know it doesn’t have to be this way. Somewhere in me this courage is inhabited. Yet I don’t let my courage be free as if I will loose something if I let it soar. So, I envy my mother, the stranger, the child and the people. My treacherous mind lives in discontent unable to sleep in night and unable to open my eyes to morning light. This discontent of mind somehow doesn’t extent to other’s happiness but to my owns. My envy is of the others but my discontent is totally on my own person. And it is totally upto me how I proceed with this enlightenment. Should I let this envy be the one which breaks me and make me into a green eyed monster? Or should I use this envy to better myself and built my envy into curiosity? Curiosity of how the stranger can smile over a simple cone of ice-cream.
If I know I have caged my courage unable to let it go like a child holding onto his favourite toy. I should maybe take baby steps build my confidence, take my own time but keep moving ahead until I can smile so easily as that stranger did (my insatiable desire). After all envy is just a mere word and it is upto me how I define it and myself.
To tame the sun is not prevalent as then it will not shine
Bestow us with its unsegmented energy as lethal as it is pure
Unchained and unrestricted it fills our world with light
Irrespective of beauty or character of wild it shows us all
Even the shadows we try to hide in the madness
Even the insignificant pest in moonbeam we don’t notice
Light years away and beyond still it stay a flamed
As stoic darkness with billion galaxies surrounds it
It breathes in fire to keep us warm
Never hiding even if more prettier is other star
It presses on to atmosphere and make it clear to us…
Bright Star is the blazing storm to be preached,
Bright Star lights the path to where we lead,
Bright Star beams on the journey until with end we meet.
What I’m living nowadays is not life but a routine. A cycle of sleeping, waking, eating, working, searching and sleeping. When a young kid, I never expected to fall into zombie state of mind always believing in overture of adults leaving home to find their destiny or adventure. Though it all seem like a sham now when i cannot even understand what home is. It certainly is not four walls or protection received and not even love of your kin’s which you are utterly grateful for. Their love sometimes can be a gilded prison, seductive to your inhibitions coaxing you to not let go of warm blanket in a winter morning. Though what if the cold prickly breeze is all you need to make your senses alive (where mind is churning, eyes feel the miracle in morning light and your heart beat as hard as a drum). No, a home cannot be a frivolous care of your body while leaving your soul in turmoil. And still we stay back in hopes of self-preservation and stability not realising sooner or later the scars on soul will stretch into the skin like tattoo.
An adult now I never expected to change my naïveté thoughts of our path being drawn very early in life and every destiny being a relative to our dream. I always kept making an ardent effort to wish and though I did made an effort to work hard but not as ardently as I wished. I let my apprehensions rule over my nerves occluding any hazards by closing my eyes. Trusting in patience of time i never stirred from my comfort zone to try and pop the bubble. Maybe I was afraid by the sound made when it bursts. If I speak the truth I don’t know. The only thing I know is you cannot live life in pigeonhole, you have to diversify your spheres. And only way I see it happening is through trying new things and to travel.