Sunday, February 27, 2011


It is a deathless cycle, forever in nature.
You can't displace the beliefs that govern your very being.

A new face, a new high.
A new start, a new experience.

A new low.
A new end.

The transition is now faster than ever.
But you try to tighten your grip.

And you try to feel.
You try to rise above it all.

No schemes, just serendipity?
Monotony and misery?

"We'll see", time will resolve all constraints.
They make you unsure of what you want.

"Maybe", time will determine the course of action.
But you are not one to relinquish.

Not even time can be given that kind of power.

Monday, February 21, 2011


The moonlight nimbly cascaded into the room.
It gently caressed the silent figure that stood there.
The silhouette that faced the portrait of a rose.
In a reverie, it was falling and languishing.

A gust of wind, and the windows blew open.
Fresh air gushed in, but brought with it no respite.
Droplets fell on the marble pane,
and a stream flowed down the wall.

Wintry cool breeze sent shivers down the self.
Feet planted, eyes fixed and arms hung at either side.
The aching bosom heaved and the figure shook with a sigh.
Forever, the rose would retain its beauty.

But what would become of you?
A resolute and firm countenance depicts fortitude.
So too does a determined and stern one.
Can you let the elements determine your happenstance?

Break and fall away from the portrait.
The being strived to stay above the surface.
Brighter was the moonlight now and it exposed the figure.
Darkness fled and the bare form stood unmasked.

The rose looked down at the simple self.
As the flame wavered and the candle blew out,
the clouds thundered and sent forth sentiments of malaise.
Foreboding was the witching hour.

Shadows danced around the figure, ridiculing it.
But it stayed fixated upon the flower's evermore contentedness.
Even the winds of change cannot undo the done.

And the self knew.

Saturday, February 5, 2011


This is taking you far away,
away where you don't even laugh or cry.

Deafening silence.

Still are all the broken shards.
Shards covered in the injuries they have caused.
Motionless fragments of beautiful glass,
that were caught in a whirlwind of tragedy.

Awakened slumber.

Begin again, start anew, rewind it all, you yearn uselessly.
Regrets will just bereave you of tomorrow.
Vanish into nothingness sorrows of yesteryear.
Accumulated emotions take flight into the vastness.

Blinding reality.

Yet again you find yourself in shambles.
So you invoke the wrath of God upon them.
The latent fiend is quick to resurface.
It brings with it seas of irascible grievances.

Loud echoes.

Shut them out. Refresh the chapter. Feign complacency.
Exuberance, gaiety, fireworks and rainbows.

Pink for now.