The Boy Who Dared

The darkness creeps up to the woods,
Pure, horrible and sickly fascinating.
The beasts whimper and scuffle away,
The nocturnals hunt, their red eyes shine.

Supernatural evils rule and roam the woods,
Their malevolent presence: frightening; killing.
Their sickly hair growing off decaying skeletons,
They are the Kings of the Woods.

But there is a tree they dare not venture to,
And that tree is sacred, for what lays on its feet:
Infinite wisdom, knowing innocence, joyful masks,
Carefree days, happy futures.

All of it is frozen, captured in the face of that boy,
His eyes stare at the night sky, seeing nothing,
His skin, full of life the other day, is deadly white,
His little hands rest on the grass, dry from chagrin.

The moon and her eternal face cry,
For something precious has been lost forever,
Condemned to the eternal void, devoid of light,
A life, blinked out; cruelly ripped off.

And thus ends the story of one little boy,
The boy who dared to hope, dared to dream,
But Alas! He never will be. And the world?
The world has all but forgotten him.

15th June, 2019

Flight

The ground flies away,
The clouds rush to me,
With their rich fragrance,
Their infinite presence.

I fly through the clouds,
Little droplets caressing me,
Finally! Free of earthly bonds,
I race off to paradise.

I rise beyond the clouds.
The hills hide the sun,
And the horizon turns a red hue.
The little stars start twinkling.

The world dissolves,
Into a collage of colors,
Like a palette full of paints,
The sky: a canvas of art.

I find solace up here,
In the majestic sky,
With the soft crisp breeze,
The rejuvenating freedom.

I am one with the air,
Free as the wind, I fly.
Soaring the deep blue sea,
I wander to realms unknown.

April 19, 2019

Rain Pt. 2

It rains again,
Nature reveling in her infinite power,
Spewing torrents upon us,
Driving the dry air behind.

I walk through the rain,
Defeated by my last encounter,
Runny nose and red eyes the rain gave me,
Now I carry an umbrella.

The wind howls,
Telling me to lose my umbrella,
Beckoning me to join their dance.
Calling me to play with them.

But, once bitten, twice shy,
I caution myself,
And hold on to the thin umbrella,
Protecting me from pleasure and pain.

And so I watch, wistfully,
At the trees dancing,
The winds laughing,
The water: festal and happy.

I hold my tears,
For I am not a part of all this,
The great uprising must go on without me,
So sleep will yours truly.

March 26, 2019

Scratches on the Paper

The great amount of effort people put into little unnecessary things is quite astonishing. I’m at a loss, seeing the amount of energy and power drained for insignificant moments. Humans are truly a bunch of impressive creatures, and carefree as well. Unproductivity is ever-present, knowingly or unknowingly.

But, who am I to judge? Am I not a product of the same society? Aren’t everything that others do inside me, just waiting to be burst out?

Quite honestly, sometimes I think I’m just a bag of muscles with thin fingers, messy hair and sunken, dark eyes who points those creepy little claws-like finger at anything that passes by. I guess I’ve got to be a little more out there.

Race of Life

I ran,
With total abandon,
The road beyond me long as ever.

I left many behind me,
Trying to catch the ones beyond me,
Giving the run all my heart.

But now,
Stoping to drink,
I see myself in the water.

And my eyes,
They are dead; lifeless and hopeless.
Life has left me and gone away.

Haste makes waste.
So, I left the race,
Searching for the life that I drove away.

March 15, 2019

Bohemian

I feel ecstatic,
The wondrous feeling,
Of music and art running down my veins,
The uncontainable joy,
Inside me and outside me.
I drown in the beauty of the world,
Intoxicated by the sweet melodies it weaves,
Channelling it through humans,
Brave enough to shoulder it.

I feel horrible,
For I am not one of those people,
I am not brave enough, not strong enough,
To bring upon a revolution of sweetness,
In this world filled with vermin,
The world full of shuffling cynic and critical eyes,
Full of distrust and hatred and envy.

Feb 10, 2019

Thoughts

You don’t realize what a stunning miracle you are. Painstakingly you have come to this place. Have you ever sat down and thought of what you actually are? You are a passing phase of the existence of something so improbable that it is impossible. You are merely a stepping stone for something impossible, you know how that sounds? Billions of years full of pain and suffering, sorrow and torture, tenacity and survival, joy and happiness lead to this moment. The words I am writing and you are reading are the result of so many small and improbable incidents. If 5000 years ago, a messenger from a kingdom to another had gotten sick and failed to deliver a message, these words wouldn’t have been written today. Hell, if something as simple as a butterfly fluttering its wings had a degree of change I or you may not have existed today. You, my friend, are simply, a resplendent wonder.

Not only you. Everyone and everything in this world deserves to exist. They all have bet incredible odds to be here today. Every blade of grass, every bloom of even the most pungent flower, every ugly crow, every irritating cricket deserves to live. None of them are too lowly or too humble. The delicate beauty of the marigold and the brushy charm of the cycad, both are there, millions of hardships under them, yet blooming and smiling all along. The universe has existed from its conception till now for you to have this moment. This honour of having existed at the same as the majestic tigers, regal eagles, righteous rhinos and wise elephants; living alongside pretty roses, happy lilies, festive hyacinths and friendly daffodils is one of the rarest honours. It is so rare that no one other than you and the people you live with on the earth can and have witnessed it. 

And thereby is a question, why don’t you savour and consume every waking moment? Why are you so withdrawn and why don’t you give yourself up to the world? Why do you bottle up your emotions, make your body weak and shriveled? Why do you treat with contempt nature’s many creations? You have become no more than a big hunk of protoplasm shuffling around trying to destroy the perfect world you live in. I am of your kind, and understand your tendencies. I understand your lethargy, your gluttony, your greed, your wrath, your envy, your lust and your pride. What I cannot understand is why you don’t transcend them. Why do you let yourself be limited by the constraints they possess? You call yourself the most superior species in the planet. Shown your tendencies of easily falling into emotions controlled by your hormones instead of pure natural emotions, I would beg to differ. You do not deserve to be the most superior if you cannot channel your emotions into appreciation and peace instead of aggression and conflict.

Looking at the vast pulchritude of the cosmos, I feel small, insignificant, yet there is another feeling too. That feeling of being extremely spent. I feel the adrenaline coursing through my body as I look at the faraway stars. I feel my limbs going limp, yet strong. I feel my resolve crumbling, “We can never hope of knowing the great things out there.” Existential crisis threatens to seize me, but it doesn’t. For the curiosity inside me isn’t afraid of time and space. It will always remain timeless. And I will do all that it takes to find out all I can of this wondrous cosmic ocean we live in. Contentment fills me as I realize we are part of this huge totality. I thank the universe for lending some of its infinite wonders and beauty in this small rock we call earth. I thank the universe for the small ticklish blades of grass beneath me, for the stars twinkling in the distance, for the mysterious blank enigmatic face of the moon illuminating us.

Forward

Small towns with stone walls,
Existed once upon a time,
Then came the calls,
And started the age of grime.

The delicious green beauty,
Got lost in the maze of pillars,
Spewing black smoke, making all sooty,
All colours lost in the dark blizzards.

The unpretentious time gone,
The industrial era had begun.
Romanticists were broken; done,
People lost hope; over nature we won.

Sluggishly, the world chugged along,
Death and decay were rampant; everywhere,
The society had an unhealthy twang,
Then things started to get somewhere.

The digital age started,
All things got vastly smaller,
Sleek, shiny and uncharted,
This age called on many-a-scholar.

Now, the sky is no longer the limit,
And we are no longer chained to the ground,
We are free sparrows, with spirit,
Trudging forward; Hope for all found.

Maybe we took a turn for the better,
I dare to hope, yet, I stop.
For the threat has gotten greater.
Hostility, politics and money are on the top.

Hope and despair revolve around us,
Never has a time existed yet,
When we are so fragile; without trust,
Metamorphosis, they have called it.

All of this makes my head spin,
It threatens to spiral me to despair.
Therefore, my thoughts now I trim,
And my fractured reality I start to repair.

Nov 12, 2018

Waiting for an Epiphany

Waiting for an epiphany,
One that is long overdue,
Hoping the incoherent thoughts;
The rambling words grow lucid.

The jumbled couplets,
The unruly sonnets,
They mock me and chase me,
Chastising me for creating them.

The broken words,
And their unique beauty,
Elude me. Their singular pulchritude,
I am unable to touch.

I sit down on the dry green,
Awaiting the time,
I will find the words to write, or perhaps,
The words to be written will find me.

After all, what is harder than
The articulation of thoughts,
Into beautiful words
Woven to perfection?

I am feeling something,
Something slithering down my mind,
Maybe the words have found me?
A pleasant tingle courses through me.

My image of me runs,
Desperately trying to catch,
The elusive cloud of words,
Then I jump, and seize it.

Then suddenly, like a fish,
It wiggles out of my hand,
And puffs out of existence,
Out of touch and out of reach.

Hence, the world vanishes,
And I stay dumbstruck,
Without anything or anyone,
To accompany me in this void.

I regain my senses,
And my social obligations call,
The pensive ephemeral solitude gone,
My thoughts completely and truly,
Abandon me.

And, hope I do,
I hope they come back,
The next time I sit and think,
I hope they stay a little longer,
Than the last time with me.

‘til then, I wait here, patiently,
Biding my time, thinking,
Gathering my knowledge, my experience,
Ready to burst out in that,
Little awaited moment of epiphany.

Sept 18, 2018

Transient Life

The candles shine in the dark,
They dim the stars behind,
I try to warm myself,
In its measly warmth.

My feet feel numb,
And my legs feel tired.
My arms are unraveling,
Under the strain of everything.

I can feel my blood,
Valiantly trying to warm me,
My heart beats rapidly,
Still no warmth in my fingertips.

My consciousness,
It is rapidly fading,
The void, dark and menacing,
Yet gentle and benign, calls out.

I close my eyes,
Sure I will never open them,
Ever again.
Ever again.

My mind goes blank,
And I find myself,
In a suspended limbo,
All gray, nothing stands out.

Such a boring world it is!
How am I to spend,
My afterlife here?
This eternal emptiness.

___________________________________________________________________________

Now I can see,
With the enormity of,
What I have to go through,
How ephemeral life really is!

Transience,
It suits me just fine.
Non-existence is better,
Than what I am experiencing.

Humans do not realize,
How menacing emptiness,
And nothingness,
And many others are.

Nothingness and emptiness.
They are dangerous,
More dangerous than chaos,
Scarier than that cold night.

I must have spent an eternity here,
Ere I wondered of my family, my friends.
They must have gotten old, and even died.
My body must have found, frozen.

I close my eyes,
Against the excruciating pain,
The pain caused by the burden of time.
“Sleep come to me” I beckon.

But it never does.
It never will.
I have a functioning brain,
But nothing to occupy it for long.

Goodbye,
I will not occupy you for long,
It will be impolite,
Now go, run away.

Before I finally,
Make eternity bearable.
“How?” You ask.
Losing my conscience.

Aug 05, 2018