Eerie melancholy rhythms of the morning We didn't want to see the awakened sun Yesterday's moon held no silver lining The stars, too, cold, quiet and undone. Droplets of red drizzling down Flags the misery of despicable doom Martyrs we are ! And sorrows our fate crowns Young compatriots moulded from gloom For the cause of Justice and right are we slain? If the labours of heroes past in vain lay How then lofty heights do attain? "Peace and unity"; shrieked voices filter the day The sun is black and the moon is red Curators of truth, we pay corruption's price Our lives to part and penance to shed To wit our souls, mighty redemption suffice.
And our blood blesses the soil Woe betides those unlawful foe-men Under the guise of garbed soldiers embroil Whose ill-fated distress leads them into crabwise warring yen The government and the gullible, Emissaries in pandemonium's game For the hope with which we expect tomorrow's fable Our lives, becomes like a casted pur with a renowned name Days becomes as fleeting shadows Ah, no! What's good sorrows this country fair had wrought T'wards the black gibbet our gloom glimmers in rows As sacrifices to the shearers, our souls are brought.
Seasons wane into whispered prayers, as all things pomp and regal webs itself in ember scars, leaving October to bear the brunt. You're cold... and you don't even understand why. Is it the whistling winter? Or has your heart lost its fire?
Things come. Things change. Things go. I tell you "life is a spiral tunnel of unending phases flowing in high and low tides". To be or not to be? Is certainly not the question but your 'self' in question. You're either here or there or you cease to be. Invisible cords of scarlet are like braided collars wrapped around one's neck and blindly you're towed towards a path predetermined by forces beyond your control. Society, government or birth-givers? It's your pick! Several ties unsevered sells you into a lifetime of unreckoned servitude. Oh! The dooms and glooms when you're plunged in despairing doubt; the sinister realization that you have lived for others and not a cent remaining for yourself — this pain I cannot forbear. Only heaven knows how hard it is to lead another's life.
The root of your problem lies in this crafted words: 'Que sera sera'. Who says whatever will be, will be. Silly excuse for life's tricks. However whatever is meant to be will be. Life certainly doesn't dwell solely on chances and coincidences,but those actions and choices that propels them. Life isn't by indoctrination; if it was, I would have inked thesis and theories in fourscore and twenty books. Life is by experience fueled by our decisions. The value of a moment depends on our choices, and how we choose to experience it depends on our actions. Tit and Tat. Give and Take - that's how life works.
Sometimes, certain quests for solitude lands you in sucide's solicitude. You don't necessarily need to pull the trigger, or hover above the ground; the feeling of being lost is as depressing as death. Feeling lost is dying while living. It starts from one worry and graduates to another. Worries are like tumultuous chagrins wrapped in clusters around your mind. An unheeded worry is suicide's chicanery tool weaved under peaceful turmoils. Such sweet suffering symbols. Solitude cum solicitude are paradoxical puns filled with oxymoronic irony — wanna debate? I'll bring food — pancake or pudding, what's your choice?
Fragments of moments, you once enjoyed becomes bizarre thoughts you earnestly desire to get rid off. I always say "life is filled with simple complexities", you never know when and most certainly don't know how. Subtle nuances like delusions of illusions - you had the big picture, you kept snaps of it in every closet of your mind. And now that the year begins to ebb, what happened to those resolutions you first made?
Fizzles of mirages. Corona crowns with callous carnage. Sullen heydays of riveting humdrums and delirious doldrums. Systemic plans becomes a haphazard nightmare. I understand. I clearly see the twinkling wrinkles shadowing on your forehead. Fizzogs of fogs, clouding your mind, leaving you to the unnerving wrench of silent voices. "Tut-tut-tut-tut" - your conscience pitifully pangs. Here goes yet another odious rant about things you have not done, expectations falling short, shattered plans, failed responsibilities. "Not again". You unfortunately sigh. You're tired and they don't understand.
But life plays by twist and turns and November fits it all into place. The end of a route is the beginning of another. To be or not to be, is not the question. You're meant to create what you want to be. By so doing, you soar beyond stolen moments, surf through waves of high and low tides in graceful demeanour and rebuild your loss from the dross. Who says a mess can't be moulded into a mesmerizing masterpiece. Oft times, life throws you into a specific spur-of-the-moment. The undeniable and annoying reality. Nevertheless, it's not the circumstances surrounding the reason that matters. It's you and what you do at that moment that matters. Think of these spontaneous incidents as halting at a checkpoint. A place where life inspects the lessons you've garnered so far. Every path you tread, good or almost good, prepares you for a certain test/ checkpoint, which in turn strengthens your morale. You are well able.
November comes with a prognosis that the year is gradually coming to an end.
Count your blessings and toss away your losses. And if they still come into view, turn on some music, hum it away. Worry not about things you can't change. You can't scoop up spilled milk, and if you can, who says a mess can't be mesmerizing.
The year's coming to an end Glory in its sunset. And if you feel every where's bereft of colours, look at your skin, admire its tone.... Wow, what a beautiful creature. ______________________________________________________ My soul's in need of some healing.... Maybe I should trick myself into some nice treats...
Before I begin to unearth drafts, I have this important restitution to make @zohiii — Zoey, buddy and bhai Since March/April and ever since that Zodiac challenge, I've always been looking forward to September. Four weeks ago, when I decided to pay a passive attention to the virtual world, my conscience (A Brutal Taskmaster) had been sorely sending signals (day and night) that I would miss that very special day I've anticipating for to bask in its fullness for months (six months, I think)... And unfortunately, I did. I'm deeply sorry... You have to forgive me if you want my conscience to finally let go of my throat...
Reminiscing moments, when I just boarded this train, I remember a wallflower sprinkling petals in form of stardusts on my pathway, by simply reaching out and planting thoughts in the comment box. I was astounded. "Maybe I could linger longer here".
Spending days, weeks and months here — I learnt quite an innumerable bunch, through your poems (there must always be an awesome and amazingly woven quote to treasure), your kind and sometimes funny words, your aptness to teach, help and learn. Every thing speaks in strong volumes... Like a reverberating orchestra. You're one of those rare few who, through their lives portray the axiom that kindness cannot be breached by continental barriers.✈ You, my brother, are an angel in the guise of a human. And I am greatly indebted to you, thou worthy Libra.
Of a surety, some ones whom we see and cherish , do not place us at utmost value, as little as we'd even expect. However, there are some preserved few, though we cannot see and may not even see in this lifetime, but whose virtual presence has made living worthwhile. Rest assured Zoey, you're forever in my prayer list.
Every day the sun comes up, we're gifted the with the ability to renew our birth... Although, it's almost a month after the official date; here's what I wrote while I was away.
I hope I'll be immensely forgiven after this. I hope my conscience will finally get her rest...(I think I can feel her hand slowly wading off my neck... Thank heavens!)
From a co-Slytherin. Your Sagittarius Sister, Luna. (I don't need to translate in parseltongue, do I?) ______________________________________________________ #lessons_learnt_from_MymirakeeFriend
Three… Two… One Escape. The world is an ugly ball of chaos The reality you seek dwells in the secret corners of your heart To taste its nectar, you must shut your eyes and open your heart. Three… Two... One Blind pathways leads to stairways where wild things that leaps forth and back abides. Only dreamers can harness wishes into coins and toss them into rivers Only seekers carve songs into forlorn wells amended by fate Search your heart, close your eyes, Relinquish your quest to the inquisitive hirns of your mind Let imaginations be your guide, and fantasies your fate. Permeating every essence is the power to create a youniverse that expunges the dystopia orbiting your world.
Have you asked yourself why you've always been a part of the creation process… And your mind rallies around crannies unbeknownst? Why your pen is the demon you cannot kill? Why your poem is the pain you cannot cure? Why words are like blood spilt on paper, and every message are refulgent reflections of your triad- body, spirit, soul?
Have you ever wondered… Why you feel caged in constant servitude to your psyche; a debt you'll pay until death Or how nous manipulates your entire being - when pleased; it unleashes the demon insatiable within until the last pint of blood is shed onto lines and spaces. When angered; you're shut in a block where the only light you see is pitch black and the only echo you hear is silence.
Often, to quench the thirst for more, you crave for paths uncharted Wherewithal the answer you seek lies within the crafted corners of inner creativity - Submit control and answer the call Your wishes are one way ticket onto fantasy island The only requirement is to close your eyes and divulge a million and one dreams, where imagination is a compass navigating through corridors Empowering you with the ability to design the version of the world you wish to see… Mayhaps a land where unicorns shed silver tears Or ever green meadows where rainbows grow on lilies Perchance a world where phoenixs are monarchs And dragons ride on roller skates Or a twist, where Cinderella becomes a martial artist And Belle steals the last petal off the rose
It's all there… An island of possibilities
Three… Two… One Close your eyes Wave the wand Paint the colours Wield the power Weave the magic Chant the mantra Bibidi Babidi Boo
Let imaginations guide you into gateways of the surreal, where kalopsia is an illusion painted in perpetual mysteries. Rid the delusion. Read the mystery.
I am the myth your mind admits The seams beneath your dreams The fantasies your mind sees
After tasting a writer's fantasies and a reader's imaginations, there's no moving on… There's only addiction. ______________________________________________________ I really don't know how this fits