Just a young soul of great ambitions

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  • the_starry_mind 40w

    Rare words:
    Sigh: A deep breath of exhalation, usually from regret or comfort.
    Pulses: The throbbing of the arteries because of the pumping of heart.
    Beats: Rhythm of a music (here heartbeats).
    Hails: tiny pieces of frozen rain.
    Gloom: Absolute darkness.
    Xyst: A garden walk covered from above with planted trees.
    Cestrums: A flower with pleasant which blooms at night time (darkness).
    Free spirited: Independent soul or person
    Earnest: Very sincere.
    Enchanted: Bounded into a pleasant spell.
    Sonder: The realisation that every passerby has a life as complex and vivid as our own.
    Collide: Hit
    Dispensable: Unessential, not necessary.
    Analyzations: Examining and thinking throughly.
    Rippling: Moving waves of water because of disturbances.
    Breezing: The movement of breeze
    Aesthete: A person is appreciative of and and sensetive to art and nature.
    Dwells: Resides, lives.
    Simplified explanation:
    'Sigh' talks about a moment that we all have been through; those few minutes of deep thinking about the past, the memories and the present, the future and the very idea that everybody around us has a life as complex and intricate as our own. And it makes us realise, that we have a whole universe inside us, not of matter of course, but something that's even harder to explain: emotions, thoughts and memories.
    The pulses that we feel on our wrists are in the present, but the kind of rhythm and beat they are producing are of October. Thus the very first line gives us a hint that we are living in today, but our consciousness is thinking of the memories in the past. And all this time, we have been riding or living through all kinds of hails and blossoms, or to be precise, the bads and goods, nights and days. And rather than differentiating such times into the good and bad ones, it would be correct to say that while we were in the complete darkness of xysts, which is literally a garden walk covered with trees from the sides and above like a tunnel, the cestrums, which are white tiny flowers that only bloom at night with pleasant fragrance, also added silver to the dark. All along such paths, even if our decisions were independent and free spirited, still the only thing that we all have absolutely been dependent upon or rather sincere towards was the very concept of 'time'.
    Sometimes we are bewitched and spell bounded in a moment, that absorbs us into an idea of sonder, which means the very realisation that even a stranger or a passerby has a life just as complex and vivid as our own. Following such emotions, we are also hit by a storm of memories that are very real and vivid and doesn't needs even a moment to confirm even the slightest details. Such moments truly makes us aware of a piece of what's inside us and strikes us to wonder on.
    Following the recall of so many memories, comes the time when we start analysing them, which starts rippling like the water boiling on a stove. We start feeling like every bit of our soul has become sensetive to every strand of fact; even if the wind is blowing, which is something very common, it will be intensely felt by our aesthete cells, where aesthete is basically a person very sensitive and apprehensive of art and nature. Thus, to conclude all such undefined phenomenon, all we can say is that there is so much that quietly lives inside us, which is inhaled like little tiny wisps of air, unexplored till its core, and just as silently exhaled.
    #pod #mirakeeapp #mirakee #writersnetwork
    Thank you so much for reading ❤️

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    Pulses of tonight, but beats of october.
    We've been riding through the hails and blossoms.
    Through the gloom of xysts and kiss of cestrums,
    Free spirited, yet time's earnest follower.

    Enchanted by a profound moment of sonder,
    Sometimes we collide with an internal storm;
    Memories too real and dispensable to conform,
    Moments as such truly strike me to wonder.

    A thousand analyzation begins rippling inside,
    And the air starts breezing upon my aesthete cells.
    There's so much inside that quietly dwells;
    Inhaled, unexplored and just as quietly sighed.

  • the_starry_mind 40w

    Rare words:

    Rue: Regret
    Row: Moving a boat
    Floundering: Struggling in water
    Current: The flow/direction of a river
    Sinking: Going deeper into a surface (here, drowning)
    Unuttered: Never uttered/said
    Kalopsia: The delusion of things being more beautiful than they truly are
    Burying: Hiding underground
    Conscience: A person's moral sense of right or wrong
    Owe: An obligation to pay back or be responsible
    Striving: Making great efforts to achieve something.

    Simplified explanation:
    'Worth' is a poem that explains how important it is to accept the present and know the difference of when we should keep holding on and when we should let go.
    It starts off with talking about the moment, when a person is yet holding and living another day full of regrets. He thinks that in life, which has been compared to a river, his actions or his paddles were too smart or independent enough to swim to wherever and at whatever speed he wanted, but which is clearly false and not possible. Because if we don't accept the flow of life and try to go in ways we personally want to, then all we will actually be doing is struggling in its waters uselessly which shall make it even harder for us to continue and move on in its flow again.
    Going deeper into believing that things were much more beautiful in the past is an act of foolishness because we are sometimes blinded to look at things and assume them to be more beautiful than they actually are. And we would know that for sure because thinking about such things would make our heart beat sadder and slow. The heart knows what our mind doesn't, and it understands that our true happiness doesn't lies in what we thought it does in.
    Perhaps some things and some decisions simply weren't meant for you. And if that's so, then still it is absolutely alright; it's not like you are the only one responsible for it or there's any fault in such decisions. All that you need to know is that some moments, some decisions and some people are worth running after and working hard for while for some, we should simply accept that they aren't meant to be a part of your life. Because while striving for your goals is important, letting go of things that are not meant for you is just as crucial.
    @writersnetwork @mirakeeworld @mirakee #pod @clifton2 @meghasharma @whisp3rs @laughing_soul @geraldine_mary @readwriteunite @ayushsangwan #childhood #tangy #antique

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    Yet another day of rue,
    For paddles were never too smart to row.
    Floundering against the current,
    Only makes it harder to flow.

    Sinking in an unuttered kalopsia,
    Always makes the heart beat slow.
    How long shall truth be denied,
    While burying the conscience deep low.

    Perhaps if some things didn't belong,
    Then you have nothing to owe.
    Some moments are worth striving for;
    And some are worth letting go.

  • the_starry_mind 49w

    Rare words:
    Chuckling: Laughing quietly
    Aloft: up in the air
    Bashful: shy
    Doff: remove
    Trace: discover, find
    Boundless: immense, unlimited

    Simplified explanation:
    'Boundless' talks about a small moment that makes us realise one of the many ways in which nature communicates with us in its magical ways.
    In a scenery, where the clouds are voicelessly chuckling and floating in the blue sky which is filled with pinkish shades, as if it's blushing. If we put away our blindness, which does not refer to the impaired sense of sight, but rather the belief that the elements of nature such the sky and the clouds are nothing but non-living; if we give up on such a belief or such blindness, we will be able to see and feel, how nature can also share a smile with us in ways that are way beyond just a curve of the lips as humans do. We will be able to feel the clouds smiling back to us, and the sky blushing.

    #pod #writersnetwork #mirakeeworld

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    Chuckling clouds aloft, in the sky a bashful blue.
    Doff your blindness to trace the boundless,
    Ways the world had always smiled with you.

  • the_starry_mind 50w

    Rare words:
    Cradled: cradle refers to the bed of a baby, here, taking care like a mother.
    Weathering: breaking down
    Oblivion: nothingness
    Lullabies: songs sung during bedtime to put children to sleep.
    Fragile: weak, can be easily broken
    Surreptitiously: secretly, sneakingly
    Slumber: a deep sleep, here, death
    Rekindling: again lighting up something
    Solasta: shining
    Crumble: break down to small pieces
    Sliver: a small, narrow piece of of something broken from a big part
    Astarism: a group of stars, constellation
    Combated: fought
    Valkyries: mythological female warriors
    Thou: You
    Recarnated: again take birth in a different body

    Simplified explanation:
    'An Incarnation' is a poem dedicated to the all the brave female nurses who are fighting this pandemic in order to save humanity from such calamity.

    She took care like a mother of those whose skin was rotting and those who were dying from diseases. And her tender and care is so extremely rare to be found, it does not believe in any differentiation on the basis of religion or race or anything else. Just a selfless care for humanity.
    She comforted and helped those to rest who were so anxious at heart, and fragile and delicate in condition. While little did she realise at first, that while she sung her patients to sleep, the darkness of such sickness and diseases was preparing her death bed as well for a deep sleep of death. She was brignting up the eyes of those who seeked her help and had almost lost all the hope and shine in their eyes. But while doing so, she was risking her own personal dreams to break down and crumble.
    And thus, she left us like a shooting star in the sky, breaking out of a beautiful constellation she belonged to. And even at the end of her time, till her last breathes, she kept fighting against the sins and mistakes that our human kind has created. For a warrior like her, even the valkyries should kneel down. Because she indeed was Jesus who recarnated, and gave up her life for all our sins.
    #pod #mirakeeworld #writersnetwork

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    An incarnation

    She cradled, who's rotting skin,
    Was weathering to oblivion.
    A tender so rare,
    Owed to no religion.

    Sung lullabies to the fragile,
    While surreptitiously sinking to a slumber.
    Rekindling their extinct solasta eyes,
    As her dreams began to crumble.

    A sliver of our astarism shooted away.
    Yet at the edge of her time, our sins she combated.
    Before whom the valkyries shall kneel,
    Oh Jesus, thou truly recarnated.

  • the_starry_mind 53w

    Rare words:
    Streaming: flowing in thin lines
    Lanes: paths
    Atlire: workshop of an artist
    Glistening: sparkling
    Reflections: (here) thinking and analysing of memories
    Enchanting: bewitching, spell-bounding
    Petrichor: fragrance of the soil after rain
    Refrains: a repeating line in a poem
    Material: money and possessions

    Simplified explanation:
    "Beyond The Materialism' tries to convey the idea that maybe there are things beyond our possessions and money in hand. And maybe, the gain and loss of these non-materialistic objects cannot be counted, but it values priceless amounts.
    Droplets of rainwater, sparkling like diamonds, they flow through the corners and paths of my heart. As the workshop of our soul, where it creates and discovers new things is not the brain, it's the heart; where it feels new emotions and discovers where in life we truly belong. And as this rainwater touches our heart to such depths, it reflects, not light as the word 'reflect' makes us think, but it refers to that 'reflect' when we go through deep thinking and analysing of our memories.
    And as I reflect upon the pains I've felt, I let go a little bit of it as I emerse myself in the spell-bounding fragrance of the soil. And as I reflect upon the merry moments, I find myself a little happier as I listen to these refrains. I am not talking of the refrains in my poem, since I really don't have any. I am talking about the beautiful poem, that nature sings: the rain, and it's pitter-patter sounds that are it's refrains.
    Hence, as I let go a little bit of the pain, and hold on to a little more of happiness, I realise that less money or more money is not the end of the world. That's not all. There are things like emotional stability and finding satisfaction out of simple moments, that maybe non-materialistic, that cannot be counted, but are truly priceless and even more important.

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    Beyond The Materialism

    Droplets of diamonds,
    streaming through the lanes,
    Of my soul's atlire,
    Glistening reflections as it rains.
    And I lose a little in this enchanting petrichor,
    And find a little in these refrains.
    Perhaps the world doesn't really ends,
    In mere material losses and gains.

  • the_starry_mind 53w

    Rare words:
    Kindled: set to fire
    Cradled: a baby's bed, (here) held protectively
    Russet: a shade of brown colour
    Suffice: satisfaction

    Simplified explanation:
    When I look into anybody's eyes, all I see is the endless desires and wants, which is born the moment they catch me, and then kept alive for as long as they see me. But I feel something very different, when I look into the deep brown shades of your eyes. They tell me, how satisfied they already are which so ever way I am present. They convey that I don't heed my desires or my wants, all I want is you, however, just you.

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    Desires are kindled and cradled in their eyes
    But something in your russet defines suffice.

  • the_starry_mind 55w

    Rare words:-

    Arcane: mysterious, understood by only few
    Carmine: A shade of red
    Blotted: stained
    Cease: come to an end
    Persist: keep going even in difficulty
    Surreptitiously: secretly
    Respire: breath and produce energy
    Mist: haze; fog
    Throbbing: fast beating pulses
    Quiver: shake; vibrate
    Trepidation: fear or anxiety about something bad that may happen.

    Simplification of this poem:

    I am addressing the mysterious and unknown; covid-19.
    And I am insisting upon being told an explanation, just why, does that soul of his, soaked in blood as it took lives of so many, still wants to live on and perform such destruction in the world.
    I'm asking him, when will his hunger for so many lives finally come to an end. I'm asking him, who and how many are there yet to be ticked off his checklist.
    And for the humanity that still stay alive holding on to the goodness and hope in life, how long will they keep going on with the same spirits.
    And I am still addressing this mystery as I say that it breathes to energy and life, everytime a soul loses its way into his trap, like being lost in a heavy foggy haze with no way out.
    And reflecting about the destruction it has done to my kind, I don't know just how long can my young heart resist shaking and beating and trembling in fear, anxiety and above all, insecurity.

    Thank you for reading~��
    I hope we all fight in our parts to the best in this pandemic. ��

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    How long

    O, the arcane unknown,
    An explanation I must insist.
    Why that carmine blotted soul of thine,
    Desires to natheless exist?
    When shall thy hunger cease?
    Who hast been penned on the list?
    Riding on the goodness that remains
    How long shall humanity persist?
    Thou surreptitiously respire to life,
    With a soul straying into thy haunted mist.
    This throbbing quiver carved of trepidation,
    O how long shall my young heart resist?

  • the_starry_mind 57w


    Who are you?
    The red,
    who burns,
    Into wisps?
    Or the blue,
    Who blazes,
    Into passion?
    Who are you?
    Yes, you are,
    A fierce fire.
    And yet again,
    I emphasize,
    On my refrain:
    Who are you?

  • the_starry_mind 58w

    A Choice

    Embrace the change: the symphony of life.
    It can sooth your every dreaded fear.

    Happiness is not ephemeral, our choices are,
    For every xenizatious pal can be a dear.

    Who says your solasta soul can't sparkle rainbows,
    Out of tangled emotions drunk on the ride of tears?

    If you really immerse to respire the goodness,
    Every moment can be a sulit and merry cheer!


  • the_starry_mind 59w

    "Bury my heart as deep as your
    malicious hands can dig, but don't repent
    if the soil fears to engulf it's phoenix spirit."