Beneath those crumpled sheets Clasping trust as a Blunt weapon Escastic heart was slitted into numerous pieces Excruciating pain piercing skin veiled in innocence Laid numb beside perceptual strains of sin Drriping love, regardless of flaws.
Filching those tainted hue of your guise Senses snatched my life and Painted my existence, outlined with splattered feelings Listening to those bleak hymns I began to live putting on a facade.
A book designed Alluring, marvellous laughter craft and small oval eyes right larger than left - A bright sunny yellow logo depicting smile. Word portrayed book mark hanging, text depicted - "life & death both are magical" emphasized.
Gazing hazy sunshine, I stood on frost covered terrace, clenching book closer to my heart. Pinkish clouds lurked those golden rays and painted sky with scattered shades of light.
Puff of wind wafted faint odour blew my hair around, riffled through those pages of book soaked in past. words over folded edges fluttered in the sky, plethora of moments sketched began to fly.
Those Blotted Verses dripping melancholy, deckled edges, Tattered pieces fallen apart, ripped off and rippled through spilled emotional hurricane, Reclined on curled edges of reminiscences, the space betwixt words began to sing lullaby.
Splattered feelings and a whiff of pain gathered smirking pearls of past ; A silver lining to pourout heart and decorate flatten pages of future with tranquility.
I remember my school days, I was a 8year old kid with curly hair, innocent smile and naughty behaviour. After enjoying weekend with my family, I just didn't want to go school. I used to think every Monday morning how to escape but my dad never believed my silly lies, he used to drop me at the school gate, with no other option carrying lunch box in one hand, school bag on shoulders, with a gloomy face I used to enter the class room.
Days went on and It was saturday again - left this world for happiness along with my family. But, hours ran like minutes. I was back home, looking at the calender, Tommorow is going to be Monday, I had decided I'm not going to step out.
It was a Monday morning, I was not on my bed. My dad was searching for me everywhere, but that time "Table" in the corner joined hands with me.
On the day, I looked at the table, old books were placed on it and covered by a cloth. Opposite to the table a clock was hanging on a wall, I just climbed the table, placed the cloth on books over me, for every minute i used to look at the clock expecting it to move fast. But, oops! It couldn't help.
I was hidden for 10 minutes,but I started to sneeze, this gave a clue to my parents who were searching. Being allergic to dust, doctor advised me to stay home for a week. I was very happy staying home.
From that day, table has became a part of my routine, I used to write homework by placing book on it, run around while playing, climb and sit on it.
Eventually, old books were replaced with the pc. Table is one of the thing I approach more oftenly, brings back the smile reminding childhood memories.
Holding my coffee mugs, anger hittings, fingers tapping. A part of busy life.
Then came the really cold temperature into November, with leaves still on trees Evening breeze caressed branches, gentle sweet singing of leaves. Enjoying dull sunshine, pleasent whisper of birds imminent harsh weather, indicating the journey. Along with time, color started to fade, began to detach from stem. Sheeding leaves, Gifted bareness to the branches, Fluttering on ground, looked at tree once they used to paint green. Blown away by the wind, floating on the river, stuck to the boat, heading to combine with rest. On my way, one of them picked to place between pages, While the other, crushed driving the car. Some captured as their memory. Travelled too long, but stranded until I turn brown.
Wings of my dream are broken, while trying to fly above the mountain of perception; across the sea of stereotype,thoughts like thread tangled my wings. How can I fly? I felt like the day I had missed my fortune flight, fear of failure formed like dark clouds that hide shine on a rainy day.
Heading with an intension that I'm going to build the nest on blossom tree, Surrounded by garden, with a hope of fallen flowers would attend my arrival;eager to enjoy pleasent aroma , chriup music, view of lake beside.
Flapping my wings to move up but seemed impossible, decided to rest in the boat of confidence, it could be easy to sail hurdles lake, washing the bleed with courage, fixing broken wing with tape of passion around the body, of course! It took time.
Now, I'm ready to fly like a falcon into sky, without flapping, Nature stood Gazing at me with clapping..!!
How do I put it? Let us say I was ignorant of the fact (it is a fact for me, my own reality, and I think reality has different versions) that nothing happens in this world without a reason. There is a sequence of events that lead us to play our part in this enormous journey our souls have embarked on. Endless lives are lived, memories created and then erased as sand is washed away with receding waters.
Talking of time, it has been such a powerful illusion. For us humans, time is always running out because for us a lifetime is all that we think we possess. But is it only a journey of finite years that makes us an enlightened being? Or we are merely playing our infinitesimally minuscule part in this prodigious journey that shall help our spirit fulfil its destiny in the truest form.
Then why do we feel attached to materials, both dead and alive. Above all, this reality that we so vividly separate from fantasy is so elusive that we never seem to comprehend the triviality of our existence. That is the only reason behind us fearing death so much, because we think that it is real. Whereas, our soul just changes its form and moves ahead on the inevitable journey. What would happen if our soul develops attachment to this world and refuses to move ahead? Shall it not wander into the abyss and fail to fulfil its destiny? What is the purpose of behaving in a certain way, loving others, respecting their emotions, maintaining relations and leading an ideal life then? Isn’t is all a waste? Isn’t it a form of felony?
Maybe, or maybe not! Because then you shall be derailing your soul off its path while your purpose is exactly the opposite. It is to give an impetus to this cosmic odyssey because you, as a human, possess the ability to mend and amend the path more than any other life form. Vedas have it that there are around 8.4 million life forms and a soul wanders from one form to another with a sole purpose of meeting its fate which is ideally to lose all forms and merge with the universal energy.
I am still ignorant of reasons for most of what is happening in my life. One thing is for sure though, there is a higher force working out there. I am bound by my karma in the same way as we all are and we have to fulfil our destiny in this limited time we have got so that we reach the final destination and rest in peace.
If not anything else, this realization makes me a fearless doer!
Because HER brother is never YOURS. ___________________________________
Monday at 1.12 a.m I reminisced how he took her cold hand to say it's okay for the loss her heart weighed. And I felt mine did float over the tears I shed on last quarter of that morning. So I felt brotherly echoes on my empty space.
Tuesday at 1.43 a.m The way her fists opened like a withered flower bloomed against a magical dew drop , when his fingers softly tangled around hers and the way my hand got smashed against those thug hands. So I felt brotherly echoes on my empty space.
Wednesday at 2.23 a.m Me and my self searched for the essence of brotherly love as she and her self wore all days and nights , and met so called brothers who wanted red sheets to be worn around my physique. So I felt brotherly echoes on my empty space.
Thursday at 2.53 a.m I wondered how her first menstruation charged his nerves with a raced responsibility. And how he waited till mine to be exploded , for his brutal feast. So I felt brotherly echoes on my empty space.
Friday at 3.12 a.m On the second week of february , she got a Disney shower on her Instagram wall with tiny wishes laced as "I did that for you my sis". And I got a rain of erotics on mine stamped with "I can do this to you girl ". So I felt brotherly echoes on my empty space.
Saturday at 3.29 a.m On a summer morning she was warned for her fabric fashions by him with a serene kiss on her forehead , and on an autumn night I was threatened to take mine off scowling twice on my wearied eyes. So I felt brotherly echoes on my empty space.
Sunday at 4.00 a.m Intertwining the whole sequence into a tremendous order , I realized that him I admired as her brother was the same person who kept her safe in her house and called me out of mine. So this time I felt godly echoes on my empty space.
Shades of emotions, colours washed out; Invisible sides of your are hidden for reasons. Hey! Under your loose mask you are burnt out; Although mask is an essential comodity nowadays!
The party is organized, the known is unknown And the unknown is known in many cases. The Organizer Himself hide above the horizon; Random people enter with colourful faces and dresses.
All enjoy the dance with their choosen partners; The one night will turn into thousand memories and flaws. The eyes with questions try to peep into the souls Amidst the symphony of happiness,suspensions,sorrows.
Everyone is a talented participant but with mask, Food, drinks and formalities are just to accomplish a purpose. Only a few true couples win each other's trust; Others ask themselves— Will there be a chance?
The loneliness lies silently, nobody reveals Layers under layers make a face's inside ruin. The cloud of feelings pull above certain intentions. Alas! Still all are hidden behind the masks' celebration.
Inside there the handcuffs of insecurities Playing chase in a reliable manner in the darkness We just put on the masks and make busy ourselves To avoid this madness of sadness which stays unexpressed.
You are like a song a mellifluously melancholic ℯ the ebony mirk sings for his beloved dawn afore he departs.. Bidding adieu to the slumberous beauty he sins of kissing her ᴄʀɪᴍsʏɴ with roscid pearly drops of dew lining her cheeks; he vows to meet her every night .