Born in a family which raised me religiously. Protected and nurtured always structured in captivity. Adorned me in the embrace of veil just like a sea shell. My holy books preached me my sights; women's are blessings and posses their own rights! Deliberate as a soft nile when life happened I grew up to be fragile. With the world out to be sparkling, I didn't demand to be a weakling. with time as I started to grumble, they said I would fumble, And my steps would tumble., that my fantasy would lead me to ecstasy. I was a maiden who needed a harness, they claimed! Bind my hands, close my eyes, make me barefooted just so I couldn't acquire myself tight. Denied my rights, put me in relations that made me agonised, four walls is all I'm made for and it was all they sealed in my fate. With edible for three time and a shelter to hide they say what else do I need? Who says this life is not a blessing and only a demise?
The stars made their way, To my eyes. With love, I picked them up. One by one, I adhered them to my new sky. Their twinkles whispered something To me, maybe about their new abode. I assured them with a smile, Singing to them lullabies of love, Of gratitude and hope. I caressed them with my fingers, Made them comfortable within my words. Dropping love, here and there, I asked them to astray nevermore, From their path to gleam. Gleam like the brightest of all, When the moon gets hindered. I asked them to stay, With their moon always. "Maybe sometimes you don't see him, But he'll always be there, Watching you discreetly, As you wait there for him." I said.
I adore the reckless lives that artists live. The anarchy, the disorder and chaos. Drowning in their emotions, struggling to let go of the past. Untangling the mess of their aches, stitching through the rags of their sense of self. A brush stroke in future, a verse in another dimension... singing hymns to the void, making God out of mortals. And all of it, so beautifully... it seems to be, a synchronized set of moves. I adore the certain uncertainty of it all. An artist's life is a universe of it's own. Every person on the outside, is a spectator... either disgusted or captivated by the sheer brilliance and failure by which the artist sifts through the chaos around and barely holds her faltering self together. An artist is a lonely soul in her own universe.
Amidst pitter patter raindrops In between the earth and the sky Why that sound of rain Never gives me respite Why that huge void of white Chasing behind Fusing in myriad shades To mingle with twilight.
Amalgamating rainbow of hopes That sunshine Dancing and stirring faith in magnificent vibes Reigning that welkins space With fathomless illuminants Sun, moon, stars And our ocean of talents.