Presents were stacked up, wrapped in glittery covers, against the pastel blue walls of my freshly painted room; pastries were decorated on the round teak table, along with precious crockery of china and porcelain; people were buzzing and giggling.
Though, an inconsistently intoned humming was all that could be heard and chaos was utterly visible, happiness resonated throughout the place; it was the moment that one dreams of day and night, when they demand nothing less and nothing more but embrace what has been bestowed upon them.
In those couple of hours, I believed paradise to be that place filled up with presents, pastries and people, but then sounded the knell for the euphoria when midnight struck in grandpa's olden, heavy timekeeper.
As the ding-dong echoed, it hushed all the voices in every corner of the room. One by one, everyone crossed the threshold and I constantly urged them to stay but their defiance ignored my presence; I was fading.
Not so long ago, I sat on the helm of happiness, and then in a snap, I didn't exist.
Crumbs of cake were scattered aloof on the table, the tattered gift-wrapping papers were lying all across the floor and the presents held no excitement anymore; footsteps were imprinted on the marble tiles and the ticking of the clock was all that could be heard.
I felt betrayed, because I was promised happiness and acceptance but for a short while.
I find myself standing on the middle ground when I argue if it's the fickleness or warmth of the heart when people gather around and celebrate pompously that you were born, but no one seems to be concerned about how you live.
A day you're loved and sought out, but other days you're abandoned with your aloofness.
It was my mischief to have forgotten how fortune is like sand in a closed fist and every attempt to clasp onto it harder, spills it out more. You can never get hold of it.
It fetched me with the knowledge that peering for peace in people would always be in vain.
I resolved to not let "my special day" envelope me in a sugary facade next year, for people become forgotten faces, and the frenzy becomes dormant; you fade away into the everlasting humdrum.
Whether you live or you die or you live dying, not a soul cares until the day dawns again.
Ugly truths are shed light upon, love becomes a mongrel abomination, and you slowly disappear into nothingness, when the birthday ends.
I do believe carcasses breathe again; lifeless and fuming but tender words, manifest into forgotten and imaginary beings with a pulse, emotions and memories, when she writes.
I do believe all the euphonious melodies are but charmless trifles, and the sound of rain after a scorching summer day is her voice, when she speaks.
I do believe happiness is her bosom friend, who sits on the tip of her tongue, waiting to resonate far and wide, in the bones of passers-by; bloom smiles galore, when she giggles.
I do believe the thunderstorms, are a phenomenon closely inspired from her, cause everything feels being uprooted, when she weeps.
I do believe I'm a warrior in her battles of every day, and no war I wage could I ever lose, until she exists to heave my sword again, when it touches the ground; sometimes she soaks fear with her fierce eyes, other times my abating spirits are replenished, when she roars.
I do believe if I have a home, it's in the entangled mess that her dark brown locks are; not in a thousand years, could I forget or lose my path, for she never lets me, when she calls my name.
I do believe, that she isn't a mere mortal like me, but a rare miracle; peace is her silhouette and calmness her breath; she's beyond the vows of truth and unjust, and it sends shivers down my spine to think of the day of my collapse, from head to toe, when she'd bid me goodbye.
In the sheen of the night, I seek the shore side again, To bury the recorded time, And that yet to be recorded.
I run amok the streets, With rekindled spirits;
For tonight, Tonight will be my only now.
Sans desires for the dawn, Under the star-frothed sky, I gasp for breath; Tracing the bricked walls, Cemented with happiness.
Naked is my attire, As I toss away the tedious fit, And trace the tiled lanes With feather-like steps; I have nothing to chase.
The brevity of night threatens, But who says I'll see the sun? Maybe this is all I have, And all I will have. So why waste it waiting; Waiting for the light to arise!
I steal a pinch of stardust, And smear it over my filthy self; Singing love songs all alone, To hear them echo back to me; I shout on the top of my voice, Without any regrets, Yearnings, Or shape-shifting dreams.
Who says, A million nights await me?
So I live like a zillion in one; Nay, I won't mourn the morn, Because I know not if I'll see it, But the sparkling night, Chaperones me in this moment.
With shortness of breath, Elated spirits, And liberated thoughts, I pace towards the shoreline, With my eyes closed, And a thumping heart;
While with hopes and fixtures Of morrow, Perishable souls sleep, In sobbing slumbers, A speck of doubt lingers, On their ignorant selves, That the night is everlasting.
In the sheen of the night, Live freely, as if yesterdays don't exist, And futures don't too, As if it's the last time.
Who says, You have forever?
Mayhaps, forever will outlive us; Instead of a dreary deception, And the facade of forever, Embrace your now, And it'll embrace you.
Careless and carefree; there's merely a measly debt you owe to the soil. To pursue the butterfly temperament is your independent decision; soar through the jovial skies, piercing the breeze of captivity, renouncing your confinements.
A strange voice might not scorn your dance of dissociation but your own; will your wings not shiver out of the mourns of many clipped ones?
Freedom is your privilege but is it fair for an individual to solely lay claim at, does this not seem inhuman to you, does this cowardice suit you?
A crime against one human, justice deprived to him, is noted as the defeat of the entire mankind; turning a blind eye towards injustice doesn't eradicate it, but promotes it and indulges you in the act as well. Silence is a stand too and more often labels you as guilty.
A naked birth can't be altered, but a bare death is shameful; in a lifetime, you stumble upon countless opportunities to clothe yourself; empathy is the robe of honour that immortalises you. Not a thousand silk threads could weave a more elegant dress, than an empathetic fit; it shines in the eyes of the beholder like a veil of hope.
A human is not one because of flesh and blood but due to his values, sacrifices and rage to not kneel down against suppression and injustice.
Revolution breathes not when a vessel voices it but with the surge of a sensation of helplessness and sympathy towards people, throughout one's veins.
Repression could be smelled; it's stirred in the air and the souls who inhale it without a sign of disdain deem unworthy as human.
Resentment against the slightest acts of apathy must perpetuate until and unless the air you breathe in has the scent of liberty with every zephyr.
You don't owe this world even a strand of your hair, but a chance to prove yourself human, to cloak yourself, is due. Then maybe you could be more than a human, you could become an idea, a pedestal of change. You owe it to yourself, but the effect and consequences will resonate.
An empathetic rebel is the most lethal, cause he recognises that there aren't any stakes except humanity to preserve; the people he fights for having lost everything are no more threatened by losses, even the slightest of favourable uproar could result in a triumph.
It sounds mythical to vanquish someone so unstoppable, someone, who has nothing to lose but dares to claim all that he needs to.
A revolutionary lives forever, as a paradigm of retaliation and indomitable human spirit; he's buried with a flag of gratefulness. But he leaves his story behind, to spark empathy in the hearts of people, to plan a new revolution.
Love will be a farce in the multitude that bends its definition to ease itself; empathy would sustain and save this world, for it is felt indiscriminately towards those who deserve it and also the ones that don't and are devoid of it, without any pretence.
If you feel empathetic towards the pain of at least one life even though momentarily, something in you is burning with fury to retaliate, you are an integral part of the revolution to resurrect and revive humanity, comrade.
It's her birthday! @manasaa ! Our little popcorn loving unicorn!
and I'm done with excuses I just had to pull the literary rabbit out of the writersblock burrow. Nifty little bugger it is❤️
I've been having some thought-provoking preoccupations lately.. couldn't write something for two other beautiful people on their respective birthdays. The people I consider family here. This is for you too.. little sister and brother. @seyfert & @_rainfrost_
All three of you are young and have beautiful futures ahead of you.. don't ever stop your dreaming!
with love, your brother and all the people who love you here❤️
Always ******** Preambulating alone in the halls of reborn castle, Comes across a hook-nose portrait little Albus, A greasy headed enclosed in an aphotic chamber, Drought face & embracive eyes drowned in elegiac pain.
Aureole hidden behind the decisive appearance and deeds, Which none ever found and no-one ever wanted to look, Smiling at that the large forested wilderness with a fjord of love, The one whom Epione showered all her dolent rain.
Finally ask those painted lips with a sneered face, So you must be Potter's spawn, eh? A tyyneys line ink within him after he recieve a reply, Uttered the alive it's name Albus Severus Potter.
The unhonoured amlug now hung at the baldachin, Smiles the same like he did when he first saw her, A true radiating cantrip riant absconding his all pain and, Murmurs Always at a glance at those embracive green eyes
Word Bank ************* Perambulating : To walk around a place at a leisurely pace Aphotic : Dark Elegiac : Immense pain Aureole : The circle around the head of Gods or a noble person Epione : Goddess of pain Dolent : Pain, suffering Tyyneys : Peacefulness Amlug : Dragon Baldachin : wall Her : Lily Potter Cantrip : Magic spell Riant : smile Absconding : escape Embracive : filled with love
After all the attempts forlorn To live like everyone around To love like them. For me it was, Like being in the world of unicorn "I love my tranquility." I said The place where I can grow Daydream constantly in a row No one will intrude like a crow In this house of a little sparrow.
Till now I was all carefree, cool and calm I never had that shiver in my palms But the moment next ranged this alarm Ohh! You butterflies, can't you keep calm? Wait what! What's happening to me I was never like this, what made me flee I just rubbed my eyes, you were on your knee Up there, the girl on cloud nine, yes! It was me
It's beautiful to have someone beside Who will always stand by your side Isn't it!? Now my dreams have wings Ambitions begin to swing You twirling me in these rings Connecting all the strings!!
The things earlier I didn't found cool Now I'm floating into it like a whirlpool Now you are an addiction, like in the fictions Dreaming about you I feel like an emotional fool! I wasn't from this hopeless romantic crew But didn't realised, when did all these grow All those theories on love coming true I Never thought my wish would ever come true Loosing my forlorn love, all I found is YOU!