It was half past three when we decided to vent our feelings over a video call, Half the day had passed already between the same walls and mind and chaos, and time had spilt through my veins like sand that I willingly let go of because the purpose of building a castle with it seemed pointless without you beside me to watch it get washed away by the ocean called life,
You were wearing the shirt we had purchased on the day we had roamed around the city with just a book of poetry, two cups of cold coffee and loads of anecdotes and silences and moments of unexpected togetherness.
I wished without saying that I could smooth gently that unruly crease on your shirt collar, while you spoke about the millionth online meeting you had just gotten out of, And you told me that you wished you could hold my hand while I told you about the way the sky reminded me of our love.
I could see that you hadn't made your bed, and when I asked you about lunch, you said you didn't remember much about it. It hurt me then most of all that I couldn't make you a cup of tea and make your bed and read you a line from gitanjali before asking you to come take a walk with me while we let the day fall away from our hearts.
It hurt me that distance now stood staring at our desire for oneness with so much alacrity and we had nothing to fill it with but our hope.
But at the end of the call, before asking me to stay safe and ending our brief rendezvous with a formal see you later, you told me that the next time you hold me against you, you would remember to hold me a minute longer , and you would never again take the moments we share together for granted for now you see that without it everything, everything seems bleak, and I sighed and simply asked you to smoothen that crease on your collar before you attend that meeting with your colleague you had told me about and you smiled widely And with that smile You held my heart instead of my hand and unknowingly, even with the distance and uncertainty lurking over us still , it all suddenly seemed alright for that single moment and I found myself letting hope dissolve the distance.
Let us take the Long road home today. Let us lower down the window a little lower than usual And let the wind dishevel everything
but our hearts. And maybe we could then play that song that reminded you of the time you held music in your blood like oxygen . And When the time comes for us to disrupt the awkward silence with our small talk, Let us bravely let the awkwardness rip the mask Out of our minds. And let us then wait for our love alone to replace the silence. And when you ask me if I remember when the world had stood still for A long time holding its breath, And when you tell me that it felt a lot like The world was hesitant to come back alive, let us remember to hold our hands like it Is all that matters and let us be grateful that It did come back alive, the world, in fact more alive than before, as though it had dusted off layers of ignorance for the transient beauty of life, and now it stood blazing with so much passion and vigour and hope, that we now didnt need to be reminded any more That To just breathe is sometimes all it takes to
And when we reach home late, let us take a moment to tell the world That she is beautiful. Maybe we didn't see it before, When we had rushed towards our destinations, Always taking the short route but now That we had stood still long enough and waited, for hope to make its way back home. We know now that she, the world is Worth saving And taking the time to get to know her must be our only real purpose.
the sun hadn't set yet when you looked towards me with that everyday glance Of yours holding a dried twig in your left hand To tell me that the world didn't seem to excite you anymore. I didn't look at you because You had more to say and looking at You would make us both pause at the absurdity of our untold grief tumbling out Like uncalled guests in the moment. But there is this urge within me to live, you see. You went on. I don't know where its roots lay but during those rare moments When I declare that numbness is what I am destined for , I see my old father pick up the weeds in our garden like It his children he is tending to or I see my mother run her hands gently through the Fur of the cat that follows her around Or I see how life fits into Each other like it makes no sense alone because it never was meant to be a lone creation Because togetherness was its only purpose And, And I see how it is all chaotically entangled like it is an endless story With a verse we each contribute , A verse that really holds no meaning as such Unless it becomes a part of the whole story.
I looked at you as the ray of the setting sun Illumined your face that was lit with love, And
I couldn't comprehend how you always started with the absurdity of the world and ended it with the meaning of community. Like your Heart held a cosmic ache to be held . By everything. I looked at you with awe because in this moment my life had just one Meaning and that was to simply sit next to you and listen to you talk about life with its black and white shade merged into a seamless gray love.
And while the sun set and we managed to speak our way into peace, I knew that the sun sets every day like it Needs to surrender to darkness to Find its way again but the light in our hearts, That,
That will stay alight Until we see how Life is Here. Amidst and in and because Of us. And in oneness lies its Profound Beauty.
//" It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society"- Jiddu Krishnamurthy //
So when the day is done and you have survived through the hours : Half mindful , Half unwilling, And you are Lying down in your not so freshly made cot In your dimly lit room Staring at the ceiling occasionally And occasionally filling Up the leftover of the day scrolling Mindlessly through the entertainment Your smart phone offers you, Trying to desperately gobble it up like it is what sustains your heart, What really does it mean when you reply with a fine followed by A smiley when your friend Unwittingly asks you, How are you faring? Does it mean you have settled for the plainness Since you have accepted it as a fact that Life, yes life has to be this. This script that repeats itself to death. Maybe you have taken survival for life. Maybe that is Where the world has pushed us To now. But in The rare moments when you are desperately trying to Make up for time spent fighting a war in the light of day With the peaceful numbness of the digital screen, And you happen to come across Your heart telling you that , I am tired, and this is just so wrong, Please Don't numb it with self-love or positivety, Listen to it, for it may be telling you The truth, that this cannot be it, and whether reluctantly or not, ask yourself If being alive is just this, Or if it is a lane you have forgotten to take because the whole world was walking on a different lane and asked you To follow simply because it seemed rational. And you followed because it seemed Less lonely And sane .
And finally ask your crowded mind, if rebellion is the cost you Have to pay for Being alive, Why be afraid, when life is
1.a vast field of love that is free 2.a brook of acceptance that life changes. 3.a hill of realisation that we can be broken. 4.a sky of empathy that has no trade value 5.a blanket of curiousity for our own pulsing desire 6.a heart of gratitude that does not carry remorse. Mix the field of love with the brook of acceptance while trying to sift through the noise in the mind. Gently place the hill of realisation in the field despite the constant nagging of the world that asks you to believe only in perfection. While letting the hill settle into the field, stir the sky of empathy into the mixture with gentle understanding that we are all beneath the same blue unknown reality. While covering the delicious mixture with the blanket of curiousity remember to tell your self that there is still a lot of life left inside your heart, to be alive for despite every circumstance that makes you believe that it might be the end. And in the end , never forget to sprinkle the heart of gratitude for without it everything seems without a purpose really. Now place the field in the light of your awareness and let it sink in. When it sinks deep inside the cracks of your hurting wounds, let out of a sigh of relief and thank yourself for having the kindness to feed your own aching soul. And When your soul is fed, remember to serve your love and kindness to the hungry world too. You will realise that doing this heals your heart faster. Because in the end, we are all just aching to be fulfilled.
My grandfather was sixty years old when he told me that he had never once told grandma that she is the apple of his eye. Why declare love when it Can be felt he said. I wonder What would grandpa say now when so much is declared but very, very little felt? He would probably ask me to look more deeply. But how would I tell him that the world prefers blindness when it comes to truth And love (both being Synonymous)? So if grandpa tells me to look deeper I would
Tell him that I don't know grandpa. I don't know how to look anymore.
Grandpa I know will then ask me to have faith in the universe, the same Universe that lost its sanity in the big bang just to Know what a pulsing heart eager for love would feel Like. And then I would reluctantly say, Grandpa but what if having Faith seems naive to me in a world that is moving towards A reality where love too could be automated? Grandpa would then sigh at my foolishness. And my near sightedness . And tell me that even today
even after he has left the earth grandma is the apple of his eye, because even Death failed to Take his love away from her even when his heart stopped beating. And I would Know he is saying the truth, For even today within grandma's tear I feel his smile. And his undeclared alive naive child like love, And so just for the sake of that timeless love I will feel, look and even have faith even if It would be really foolish to do so . For why not have faith in that which remains unmarred By death even? Love I mean.
I am not going to assume who you are and what you are feeling within yourself in this moment. I don't really know if it is joy that life has offered you today or if it is grief that is making you question the purpose of life today. I don't know what your relationship with life today is and I don't find it right really to intrude. I don't know anything about you and that is why writing this to you feels like a beautiful undertaking because our relationship is not yet marred by a heavy dose of expectation or nostalgia.
I am guessing that maybe you want me to tell you that it is all going to be fine? This our lives I mean.
I don't want to. I really don't because you would have heard this too many times and now I just want to tell you the not so poetic reality of life just as I experience it every day in between the rare moments of glory. Maybe then you can know that we, you and me are not so dissimilar in our extremely Ordinary lives which connects each of us in the most extraordinary way possible.
You see I walked my grandfather to the clinic the other day. While walking to the clinic to get his old heart checked I saw a girl holding onto the strong shoulder of her grandfather while alighting her school bus and I held onto my grandpa's hand a little tighter wanting his heart to live on for ever you see . For my sake. For the sake of my relationship with him. For love. I need his heart to keep beating. And grandpa just smiled in his ordinary way and I had to make do with this small mundane gesture.
Today I received a call from my best friend that she will be shifting to the other side of the world for her higher education. Now how am I to handle this? The one with whom I had been my most goofy vulnerable self had decided to freeze that version of me within long distance calls. And in the most ordinary way she said that we will learn to make the distance shorter through the digital world . And I had to make do with this assurance.
All I am trying to say is that life is not that poetic.It really isn't. It is bare, it is vulnerable , it is open to errors, it is just what it is. And yet when you come to think of it, it is life too that gave me a grandpa with such a vastly kind heart even if it has grown old now, it is life which gave me a friend I am willing to time travel for. So I guess in the end , life is ordinary but that is exactly what makes it so beautiful. That something that is so beyond our human understanding Can be so ordinary in its essence? I just don't want to tell you that life is going to be fine you know? I want you to know that Life is going to be everything. Fine, not so fine, ordinary, extraordinary. And that's why you are so lucky to be Living it. Because you get to experience Life in her entirety.
And It is my only wish that you come to have such a deep relationship with life that you embrace her in all her shades and even love her more for it. Through it all. The ordinary And the extraordinary.
Beauty ? Beauty that is more than skin deep? Formless and free and wild , you mean? The one that cannot be explained and analysed and Put on the operating table of the mind to be dissected of its components to finally arrive at some sort of enlightening conclusion? The one that takes you by its claws and tears away the illusions of size and shape and weight? The one you find waiting in the eyes of a mother who is waiting for her four year old daughter who had dressed up awkwardly as a princess in the morning to know if she could find her kingdom amidst the craziness of the world just because her mother told her that she could? Or do you mean the one the warrior holds at the place where his armour ends and his true courage begins, the one that made him wear the armour in the first place ? Or or are you shyly refering to the one that hides in the space between lovers who haven't yet found the words or phrases to give form to the enormous formless emotion overwhelming their being , connecting them into some sort of seperate universe that is complete by itself? Or are you referring to the one that lies coyly in the heart of the slave who sits day after day against his window, looking at the unforgiving sky to offer him a release from the prison of his own mind , and yet harbors enough hope to know that it is possible. The freedom he seeks. And is willing to pray for it against all hope? Oh oh Or are you slyly refering to the one you hold within the cells of your own body. The one that heals and repairs and breathes and holds and silently keeps you alive while you are busy looking for your joy in a place that is not already within you? Or are you trying to describe the one that stands proudly in the slouching shoulders of the retired man who silently built a fortress of safety and comfort for his loved ones and now sits without ostentation not claiming anything but joyous to see the sweat he transformed to survival now being metamorphosed into greatness by his children? Or are you pointing out to the stars that find it in themselves to shine without a complaint that their light has to travel such vast vast distances for no grand purpose but for the simple need of the creator to add a little light to our dark night skies? Or are you poetically refering to the nests huddled up amongst the trees , nests built by tiny inconsequential birds for their fledglings , knowing without any kind of theories and principles and laws that it is their duty to keep the beings capable of flying alive ,in this universe no matter what? Or darling , are you referring to this space right here , This space between me and you in which exists the possibility of us becoming one , where our skins will not be the boundary any more because our hearts have found resonance through beating to the same tune?
Or are you referring to everything?
The ecstacy, the pain . The burden , the lightness. The string , the fabric, The breath , the grave The love , the silence, The story , the reader, The sun , the moon, The eyes , the perception The bond , the loss. The now , the forever. The you , the world. Because somehow you have come to see that Beauty cannot be one thing and not the other Because everything somehow is so intricately connected into one single verse called the uni-verse where in Everything just coalesces to something Incomprehensibly beautiful the Greek philosophers came to refer to as the Kalon?
@writersnetwork,@mirakee #beauty //A repost from before since I guess my definition of beauty is still an inclusive one so I thought I should just remind myself that beauty remains unaltered by posting this again//
//"look we are not unspectacular things. We've come this far, survived this much. What would happen if we decided to survive more?"- Ada Limon //
When you ask someone to not be anxious,
not to be so wounded What do you think really goes on in their heart? I mean , Is their heart or mind free enough to really hear you? If it isn't then who are we addressing Really? A part of them self That even they are searching? If it is free then how do you think their anxious heart can go about putting your instruction To practice? I mean If they already knew how To ease their hearts would they not have already done that kindness to themselves? How then can we be there for ourselves Or for those who are Struck in the darkest Corners of our minds?
Why aren't we capable Of a love that heals? Why despite all our knowledge Of the world are we So oblivious of our own hearts? Is it because we never cared Enough to know or Is it because the world Always taught us to see Only that which was visible? When we don't know where the Wound is within another Or within ourselves How do we cure it then? By looking? By caring enough? By seeing that Collectively we all are in the dark About our Own fragile lives? I think maybe it begins with a very very Small ounce of kindness. And realisation. That we don't know . We really dont. And It is our duty To pay as much attention And kindness and Value To Our inner selves As we Do to our outer Lives.
When we were lying next to each Other on the half white rug that we had brought on our first anniversary After deciding that it would remind us Of our shared obsession For clouds You told me that this is not exactly what you had expected life to be.
The ceiling fan Above me whirred Like a tired heart and I didn't know what you meant. Atleast I didn't want to . You paused. For a breath Or maybe for my heart to catch on. I don't know. And then you said I had this idea of a life that could keep my heart forever alive with a passion bukowski writes of And a sense of aliveness plath ached for. But this, this is just so , I don't know. You said and placed your hand over mine That was laid in the space between us. I didn't know how really to make sense of this simple declaration of everyday misery. Especially when uttered by the person you Loved with all your being. But the fact was a fact. As clear as the rug that We were lying on , the one I had Washed with rose essence detergent because you told me it reminded You of the garden of roses you visited After falling in love with me.
So this thing we share, whatever it is, it is not always enough isn't it? I wondered out loud. You hurried anxiously to tell me that our love was what kept you grounded still. You even blurted out that our love was Every thing.
But I knew, that you needed more.
I knew because I needed it too.
Is this need for more aliveness inherited By all who live?
Do we feel so constricted Because like the Universe our purpose Is to expand into ourselves?
So when you told me, This is not what you expected life To be , I didn't tell you that our love should have been enough, because My love for you is deep enough to let you grow into other Versions of your self, So instead I told You to take up that pottery class You had always wanted to join and drank a cup of chai From the universe shaped cup you made and managed to add a little Chai coloured stain to our half white rug and even called it our Personal rainbow.
//Maybe that's what life is... a wink of the eye and winking stars.// - Jack Kerouac
When I step outside my house, the sky seems to be at arm's length and I wonder if the clouds would ever embrace me out of the blue, then to people who keep me at arm's length, the clouds would appear to be closing in on me, out of the blue like a thunderclap.
When the rain falls, when the leaves rustle and when you stand sure-footed beneath the rumbling thunderclouds your mind thinks otherwise perhaps the light drizzle is another form of life that tiptoed out of the heavens and away from the mundanities of life and crashed into you, like a thunderclap.
I'll write summer songs along my bones to carry her to a world where lyrics won't hurt but teach. I'll let her watch how buds bloom to make her feel growth isn't a journey to a haunted beach.
I'll sit by the buds cheering them, saying they are beautiful no matter what shape, size or colour may be. I'll let her know that men and women are two pillars of a civilization and that a castle won't last without any of them.
I'll let her know that beasts aren't the norm and they deserve to stay who treats them no wrong I'll let her know love isn't calculated it's a wine that lifts their soul and gets better as time passes by. For all that fades with time aren't true emotions but silly desires.
"And I can be all the things you told me not to be When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing And he see the universe when I'm the company It's all in me. " (God is a woman) ~Ariana Grande
Bg - One picture is mine, rest are from pinterest. I made a collab of all :3 -.-
//The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.// - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
A garden where flowers bloom throughout summer and monsoon a garden surrounded by a fence for protection against pilferage he cursed the butterflies and the honey bees; innocent pollinators it transpired that the wind dispersed atleast a dozen dandelions daily.
The landlord shooed the bees away the wind couldn't perforate the sturdy and towering walls the butterflies took a nasty hammering and left; dejected.
Winter kissed the flower petals with lips, cold and chapped spring was cruel this year it clasped the nearby gulmohar and the tree died, just like that with no one to light its funeral pyre.
Unaware of the extinction that poisoned the whole garden at a leisurely pace; death is slow but sure beauty should never stay but go and on the other side of the fence sunflowers can bloom and the little sparrow too can sing a song of unity and harmony for this land belongs not to you and me but to us.
//Art is the only way to run away without leaving home.// - Twyla Tharp
Her thoughts birthed three winged words each with a bow and arrow, Venus, the evening star is weaving the feathery clouds tinged with mauve into a stately wedding chapel.
She knows about the arcane desires of youth and thence her letters veered onto romance and rekindled my frantic obsession with the 90s love songs.
The sky is filled with the reek of tuberose and jasmine and in a paradise hidden behind the lovestruck clouds, she writes poems and when the time comes she frees them from the labyrinth of her heart and sends them swirling down with clockwork precision alongside the dandelion seeds to meet the needs of the parched earth and to redefine both love and infinity.
//There was a brief silence. I think I heard snow falling.// - Erich Segal
The whirring sound of the engine reached a crescendo while his friends were still chattering away, there was a brief moment of silence when the bus stopped at the railroad crossing. Those few seconds which succeeded that period of turbulence united each and everyone of them, the silence was palpable and they all were more grateful than ever.
When she staged a picket in front of all her bullies that unkindness doesn't have the bandwidth to solve anything. There was a pause before they crushed her spirit and in that moment of silence, courage resonated in her mind; to win by logic and not by number was a personal triumph for her.
Narrow mindedness is a hurdle on the way to the reconstruction of the society. Truth negates ignorance, truth liberates us, it empowers us. We fear truth thence fear enslaves us. A short-lived moment of silence before sidestepping the truth, before you jump off the building, before you vote for a political party and before you make a radical decision, doesn't cost an arm and a leg. Introspection is born of silence and introspection is a must and is indispensable.
//But it don't matter, it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore// - Hello by Adele
It has been almost a year since I pruned my priority list and you still tap at my window when the clock strikes midnight, in a way that makes me sad but keeps me below, the threshold for anxiety.
You can open a door for a loved one but can't close one to keep out the affection while you are still in love so I closed the other door to eschew confrontation because when you clasped my arm, I ran out of feelings like the Gulmohar tree in your backyard that still has your muffler tied around its trunk, both of us failed to embrace you out of gratitude while you were still around.
In plain words, you were waiting for me on the wrong platform when I boarded the train; counter-intuitive, but I couldn't care less and we both grew up somehow.
//A faint clap of thunder Even if rain comes not I will stay here Together with you// - Garden of words: a tanka
I tickle your feet lovingly like an incoming wave that washes against the shore, you giggle heartily before whispering incomplete sentences in my ear and then you pull away, your eyes questioning mine and I can't help but smile back because now my mind knows how to comprehend your words whether on the tip of your tongue or at the back of your mind.
The sound of waves crashing against the shore, the vast ocean before us, everything ushers me back to your eyes, back to you; I quickly draw a vague comparison between the past and the present, without even thinking about the foreseeable future, we are together, unscathed, afloat and I am thankful to be alive and next to you.
//Cut the cord and pull some strings make yourself some angel wings and if those angel wings don't fly someone's going to paint you another sky// -Paper doll by John Mayer
A battalion named after us, a land for brothers and sisters but then there were guns that backfired and in the stampede born of confusion and trepidation our innocence died a painful death.
In the process of our everyday negotiations with the world we often switch between being generous and being selfish and with the passage of time hate burgeons between people distancing them above and beyond.
When the urge for vengeance reaches a fever pitch that's when bridges break that's when things fall apart that's when your wounds smile roguishly before rubbing the leftover salt in the wounds of many others.
But the world is not a chess floor on a personal level it's your own perspective that determines what is right and what is wrong the world is way too complicated for you to not always contradict your own ideas and decisions for you to be able to think at all times in the terms of absolute black-and-white.
//A rose can never be a sunflower, and a sunflower can never be a rose. All flowers are beautiful in their own way, and that's like women too.// -Miranda Kerr
The befuddled crowd gathered around an array of flower pots, and the eye-catching diversity piqued the curiosity a notch higher.
Rose and tuberose swayed side by side; close competitors the well known predominance of the velvety red petals in premordial romance and the playful and flirtatious demeanour of tuberose often enjoyed inside closed rooms with all the fervour of young love and passion.
Sunflower and night-blooming jasmine one the polar opposite of another the sanguine and bright petals that symbolize loyalty and confidence, and the white pristine petals of jasmine that value modesty sensuality and beauty above all.
Lotus and waterlily, aquatic plants where lotus always stands above the surface of water; resilient and the shy introverted twin swims with its head just above water; selective participation.
The flowers all squirmed in their pots with their eyes riveted on the glistening podium that stood in the spotlight, a few yards away; the winners will be announced shortly.
//No one ever made a difference by being like everybody else.// - P.T. Barnum
Concrete walls forever willing to lend an ear to hear but never to disseminate without authority; privacy and intellect the holy grail in this era of mass surveillance and logical fallacies.
Where every attempt to block the truth is revered where people still prefer herd mentality over individualism; I have had enough of false accusations and enemies busy stringing the befuddled crowd along.
How unethical is your torture my dear tormentor, but your throne is placed on a slippery slope and truth will out, sooner or later; the truth will out.