I behold a girl, naive, bruised, silent, sobbing in a room, with all walls painted in the shades of black.
I ask her name, she doesn't reply, suddenly I perceive a mirror between our worlds.
It's double faced, insane me, taking it diaphanous, always curious to know, what lies beyond the mirror.
Alas! Mirror never lies, it's reflecting the truth all the times, a girl caged in misery, blindfolded to light, in love with sweet nectar of night.
Years went to decades, one day I ruminate, who stands on the other side of double faced mirror, maybe one of my reflections, valiant, solid, candid, in a world of light, maybe in some parallel universe. -meghasharma
Glossary- lay- a song Gaia- mother of all life; personification of earth passerines- song birds wold- plain, uncultivated land clad- clothed apparition- image sapphire- blue stone; here moon lachrymal orbs- weeping eyes virescent- greenish
You are already great because in the face of endless confusion and certain death, you continue to choose what to give a fuck about and what not to. This mere fact, this simple optioning for your own values in life, already makes you beautiful, already makes you successful, and already makes you loved. Even if you don't realize it. Even if you are sleeping in a gutter and starving. -Mark Manson (The subtle art of not giving a f*ck)
In the darkest of nights, I lie abandoned, with the flickered flames of my lamp and my woebegone mind, lamenting over my hippocrene, the day she parted from me, left me and my pen alone, with blank sheet and empty canvas, devoid of all musings, I once cherished!
I was a moonstruck, and still I am, waiting for the arrival of that waxing gibbous against the black canvas, till the advent of full moon, I will wait, wait for that idyllic vista, a rendezvous, a bard's muse, whose glory the nightingale hymns!
Nature has a permanence, a tranquility, but deep down I know, the thing of beauty won't last long, it leaves a memory, and even though she will arrive one day, but I fear the waning gibbous, the day when we will again parted away, left again a bard in the barque of verses to sail, searching for his phoebe, not enticed by the poison of red berries, but in forage of the lily of the valley to bloom amidst the bosky dell!
Even if my ink indites a lament in deep plight, but my pen still writes it in the glory of night, and will not cease to ink, till the soul meets the divine. The lily of the valley will bloom one day, and I will wait, till the nightingale returns to the vale, maybe the next year in May! -meghasharma
Glossary- bard- a poet barque- boat hippocrene- a poetic muse waxing gibbous- growing phase of moon idyllic- peaceful, picturesque waning gibbous- shrinking phase of moon phoebe- moon( according to Greek Mythology) bosky- wooded dell- valley Lily of the valley- a woodland flower symbolizes the return of happiness when it blooms and is associated with the singing of nightingale vale- valley
There's a snake in my boot, And the monster under the bed, a dystopic place, in the loneliest hour of night, with corpses dancing hysterically, like they've got their time, and I envy them, why are they so free, while I smother on the bed, with ears hearken their grinning, olfaction smells the remorse, and slowly and steadily, they are approaching towards my bed, drenching in sweat, like a nightmare comes true, I'm dying maudlin death, cursing why I slayed my life, living incognito, buried the life, oblivious of the monsters rising from the grave, haunting me at night. Rescuing to the bed in vain hope to sleep, soon a scream deafen me, and all the corpses perish. The room is now abandoned, sight is not deadly, it doesn't smell remorse bed is now empty, but how can I help, if the monster lies inside my head! -meghasharma
I have taken a quote from the Disney's 'A wrinkle in time'. It's a beautiful sci-fi movie. And I deeply admired the character of Mrs. Who, the best part is she usually speaks in quotations from famous thinkers and writers with giving reference to them and their native places, because she finds it difficult to craft her own sentences.
I've taken this quote from the movie, which is actually a quotation by Buddha-
Mrs. Who: The foot feels the foot when it hits the ground- Buddha, Nepali
When I went to school they told me their history. The experienced ones, be the teachers or the walls and pillars, they all had a story to tell. I went there with empty cup, knowing no distinction.The sky, the rain, the wind, the soil, the only ones I knew and spent time with. Maybe I had limited wisdom, as they told me, so I set on an unknown voyage to travel the history. I was raw, I was wild. Soil was the color of my skin, ocean were my eyes, gentle breeze made me float in dreams, and the open stretched sky held my toys. I cherished them, until one day I was told that my colors were not my own, they were derived from the miracles of heaven, which they pointed towards sky. I yearned to reach that mighty fireball in the sky, which imparts colors. What would be my colour, if there were no tryst between sun and air, would rainbows exist then? I grew up with these questions, and the voyage made me sail through more unknown places! I was given a map of the world. I demanded that of the universe. They told that the universe is infinite. I wonder why couldn't be human mind then? They made me believe in facts, but I loved possibilities. I was not a student of discipline, I was wild. I roamed the galaxies at night, strolled carelessly the wild. They made me to study boundaries, line segments, the sanctuaries, the continents. There had cures for all the ails, before that I relied only upon mother's miracles. Sunlight inaugurated the days, moon sang lullabies, I love those folktales. But they told me to burn midnight oils to become a conqueror. With time, I became a pro in mastering the world and learning its norms. I become a survivor, but somewhere living is missing!
They want me not to shed tears and have fears 'cause they do believe shedding tears and having fears are an epitome of a coward. Tears are needed to lessen the burden of our heart and we must have fears, so we can overcome them. To learn from our fears is far better than not to have them.
They want me not to speak frankly, to be in my 'limits', it's what they say. It differs that 'limits' here means not to represent my part, to shut my mouth even on wrong doings. "To see evil be done is a more sinful act than to do evil." To not speak for right is what cowards do.
They want me to be as beautiful as a flower and as tender as its petals, no matter what the circumstances are. They forget about the thorns. Why don't they understand that the outer ugliness isn't ugly, it's the appearance of the soul which matters. And sometimes being tough is what we need, "NO" is what is required instead of tenderness and a deadly "YES".
They want me to have a calloused heart. For they do believe, it's how we succeed. Leaving everyone, breaking every bond, it's not the way how humans survive.
But they want me to be any one of these, either a warrior or a coward , either a flower or a thorn.
Why are they placing me in one more division? This world is already full of social divisions, not one more.
Why don't they leave me just a Homo sapien? A Home sapien who knows how to shed tears and shred fears. A Homo sapien who embraces tenderness and callousness at the same time. Isn't it enough that I'm a Homo sapien or my complexion too matters?
I'm a warrior who has learnt from Her fears by overcoming them, Fears that a coward has. I'm a rose adorning those thorns. And my complexion is grey.