A sub-conscious voice
Fleeting, yet intense
Began to linger on
In disguise
Playing in my head(or heart?)
a multitude of chimes.
Reluctant to lend an ear to this tune, I was
Reluctant to let it commit those crimes
Unaware
Of all the warmth it could bring me.
The cold soothing silence, was what I chose
Instead of letting in, those echoes
What was it trying to say?
The answers to all my questions, maybe it could convey?
It was a chance I had to take, a choice I finally made
Lost in a make-believe world,
pretending to love what I do
it would've been too much to lose,
had I lost the will
to give myself a chance, anew
-A
Shapes In My Mind
Musings and thoughts overflowing from a twenty-teen's mind
Sunday 19 January 2014
Sunday 16 June 2013
It's Okay To Cry.
It's okay to cry.
Tears are just an emotion, hardly different from smiles.
It's okay, to have your heart broken.
Only then, will you find people who care enough to fix it back.
It's okay, to lose something precious.
That's how, you'll be way too careful the next time around.
It's okay, to burst out.
Because holding it back, is only going to make things worse.
It's okay to cry alone.
And let it all go.
It's okay to cry in front of someone,
Who'd pat you and say,
Who'd pat you and say,
'Sometimes, there's a crack in things,
Only so light gets in.'
It's okay, to cry some more,
It's okay, to cry some more,
If you've found the shoulder that makes you comfortable.
It's okay to cry.
'Cause it's in fact a sign, of being alive.
- A
Saturday 15 June 2013
Whose Story Are You A Part Of?
We're all constantly, involuntarily, chasing one another to fill up the blank pages of our diaries. And, we meet so many people on the way, while we're at it. Some of their stories, sometimes, happen to intersect with ours at a crossroad. That's when they come through our lives, into it. Few among these stay for a reason, few for a season and few for a lifetime. Either way, they all become a part of our story. At the end of the day, we all want a story that's worth telling. A story that'd make people smile, long after we're gone. One that'd be unique and sublime.
So hey, whose story are you a part of? Do you change its course for the better?
So hey, whose story are you a part of? Do you change its course for the better?
Friday 14 June 2013
The Tranquility That Was Left Behind
There was a familiar sense of serenity
In this aura that filled around me
Reminiscing those bitter sweet memories
I was lost in the imagery, once my reverie
The scornful world, almost non-existent
Its demeaning clutches, to trap me, reluctant
As there was that familiar sense of serenity
In this place, that I'd considered my home-to-be
The innumerable bubbles we strung together
Bead by bead, tightly tethered
All loosened and undone, scattered in pieces
Although, the scent of the old letters,
Although, the scent of the old letters,
Still fresh, carried the familiar sense of serenity
The gush of words and fragments, that played in my head
Like an old tape, worn out, waiting to be replaced,
Hushed down; And I reached for the unstrung beads
For there continued to linger on, that familiar sense of serenity
- A
- A
Inspired by 'Dear John', I just happened to watch again. Ah, Nicholas Sparks.
Tuesday 11 June 2013
I Believe In Magic. You Should, too.
Each of us and our lives are governed by a simple need. The need to eliminate the line of difference between what we have and what we want. Putting in another similar sense of approach to it, I'd say, the line of difference between reality and fantasy. Fantasy isn't something that is only associated with the Disney stories and the movies that portray happy-endings. All of us who have a mind, a soul and that 'muscle that pumps blood throughout the body by repeated, rhythmic contractions'; basically all of us who are alive and breathing should have fantasies, dreams and desires of our own, irrespective of how easy or hard it is to achieve them. Nothing should stop us from having them, in the first place.
Sometimes, I just find myself sitting by the window, watching the clouds move incessantly and wondering what I'm here for. What all of us are here for. The point of our existence.
And now, to think of it, I realize that the whole point of our existence is filling in that gap. The gap between our hardest reality and craziest desires. Some of us have almost filled that in already. Some of us have just started. And some more of us, actually a very significant number of us, are getting there, yet to draw that line, yet to establish the end point. There is no particular period in our life by which we have to accomplish this. We can take all the sweet time we want. The biggest catalyst or hindrance when we set out to fill this gap is our mindset. It's okay to not have the exact crystal clear image of those dreams in our minds. We shouldn't, either. Who doesn't like those little surprises of realizations? The journey from one end of the line to the other is all about the excitement of figuring things out.
Go ahead, make yourself available in your dreamworld. There may or may not exist any such thing as fate, or destiny; because mostly, it's the choices we make, isn't it? But there is serendipity. It's such a beautiful thing, when it happens. Be patient. Believe in that element of serendipity.
For you never know,
Saturday 11 May 2013
'Her Broken Smile'
As she walked across
The street of shadows
Dragging along her broken smile;
Dark and enveloping, they cast over her face
The street of shadows
Dragging along her broken smile;
Dark and enveloping, they cast over her face
Wiping away with it, all the grace.
She walked, on her tired feet
Her breath, slowly receding
The reek of the after-storm air
So cold, piercing through her skin, bare.
She didn't cease, she continued walking
Like she knew where she was heading
Leaving her footprints, trails behind
On which she never belonged to, this land.
The crackling of the dried autumn leaves
Echoed into the depth of the streets
The shrieking silence, swirled around her
Trapping her in a scent of herself
Bringing her one with her unknown self.
A reason was found, a company unwound
She let go of the remains of her misery
Her bound soul, she set free
The broken smile, hence, no longer did she have to carry.
- A
She walked, on her tired feet
Her breath, slowly receding
The reek of the after-storm air
So cold, piercing through her skin, bare.
She didn't cease, she continued walking
Like she knew where she was heading
Leaving her footprints, trails behind
On which she never belonged to, this land.
The crackling of the dried autumn leaves
Echoed into the depth of the streets
The shrieking silence, swirled around her
Trapping her in a scent of herself
Bringing her one with her unknown self.
A reason was found, a company unwound
She let go of the remains of her misery
Her bound soul, she set free
The broken smile, hence, no longer did she have to carry.
- A
Sunday 5 May 2013
In The Parallel Universe...
In the parallel universe,
I'm an artist. By all means.
I breathe, eat and drink art. All forms of art.
I am a painter and a musician by the day, and a poet by the night.
I am because I'm truly in love with it. Not because there is any necessity.
I am because it completes me. I am because it defines me.
Because it radiates through my soul.
Because it flows like blood in my body.
I live in a beautiful cottage by the countryside.
I live one with nature.
I have a pet. And a garden where I can peacefully lay.
Lay on the green grass and breathe fresh air.
I eat nutritious food. And cook my own food.
I am content and unconditionally in love with myself.
I am not the richest, I am not showered with luxury.
But, I am surrounded by abundant love. My love for art. My love for life.
I love and live each day to the fullest.
I take evening walks by the brook,
Where I can catch glimpses of the sunset over the distant mountains.
I take those walks with him. Holding his hand.
I sleep right under the stars. Gazing at them till I fall asleep in his arms.
I wake up the next day, only to relive these moments again.
In the parallel universe, I'm an artist.
I love and live each day to the fullest.
- A
I'm an artist. By all means.
I breathe, eat and drink art. All forms of art.
I am a painter and a musician by the day, and a poet by the night.
I am because I'm truly in love with it. Not because there is any necessity.
I am because it completes me. I am because it defines me.
Because it radiates through my soul.
Because it flows like blood in my body.
I live in a beautiful cottage by the countryside.
I live one with nature.
I have a pet. And a garden where I can peacefully lay.
Lay on the green grass and breathe fresh air.
I eat nutritious food. And cook my own food.
I am content and unconditionally in love with myself.
I am not the richest, I am not showered with luxury.
But, I am surrounded by abundant love. My love for art. My love for life.
I love and live each day to the fullest.
I take evening walks by the brook,
Where I can catch glimpses of the sunset over the distant mountains.
I take those walks with him. Holding his hand.
I sleep right under the stars. Gazing at them till I fall asleep in his arms.
I wake up the next day, only to relive these moments again.
In the parallel universe, I'm an artist.
I love and live each day to the fullest.
- A
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