Like a ray of warmth traversing down your intestines
You bestow yourself with your own empathy, love, and understanding
Letting yourself feel like You again.
The happenings of past few months
That you made a mistake to defend from the truth they held
And the concrete structure of your belief which was born out of your blessings once,
Have now disowned you.
You doubt yourself, your existence is troubled,
Eyes red, at the depth of darkened eye sockets,
Filled with reddish marks caused due to the friction of tears on your cheeks,
Vanished genuinity of smile,
Apt suppression of words and expressions
Yet still, the one thing you most despise is to collect pity.
You better run through this, bare-feeted,
Wondering if your future can bear a token of that segment of past that was wonderful
Reminding that you don't 'belong' anymore
And filling your heart with enigma of distrust;
Weird random memories return with unbearable nostalgia
So that you would want to be numbed down to your last cell.
With ugly face and unattractive manners
You avoid your gaze from falling onto the mirror
Until one day you recognize that it's not you anymore
Where have I gone? You wonder. And since when?
Can you return back?
Can you assume the worst of reality in order to gain no second choice for your next step?
Or you still prefer to defend the smashed concrete structures of unrecognizable believes?
And still you think you have a choice!
To suffer or to suffer more
(With no scale to measure).
This night is creepy
The shadows from the past are haunting me
Sucking on my hollowness (that I have been carrying since ages), tear by tear
In the drops I see my fear dripping down
And the shivering comforting my reality, my present
This cold weather is my only solace
For my mind drifts back into the lands long forgotten
The lands that bring a feeling of hollowness and nostalgia as a token of its ruination
It is telling me that it should not have ended,
It should not have been burnt down by ignorance
Because it was a beauty, though now just the memories that haunt the dreams day by day
I am not responsible for it
I am only an onlooker
Who is looking cautiously deep down into the narrow lanes of infinte depths of someone else's subconscious.
A pale moon
A dark boat
A tree, shivering,
A bird flying high
Turning of heads in graves.
Tormenting howls from caves.
Escaping from a well.
A burning house
The entire desert
In the leaps of flames.
Diving in oceans.
Their own body portions.
The red water of lakes.
Digesting their own seeds.
"For God's sake!"
The statues, smiling
Revealing their decayed teeth
"Time is up."
The Oracle says,
"Death is coming through the days."
Of what shall I write?
The cold, the shivering,
the blank maze of fog?
The pains and misunderstandings,
the subdues of relationships?
The tales of friendship?
The memoirs of happiness?
The bulk of lessons,
the raining bullets of thought?
Peddling legs, weaving dreams?
Unspoken words, silent gestures?
Hopeful assumptions? Discredited ideals?
Of what shall I write when the words
dissolve into the depths of blank diaries?
Of wasted time? Of vain reveries?
Of underrated feelings?
Of mainstream discussions?
Of ignorance, of vanity,
of distinguished personalities?
Of what shall I write
Of love? Of separation?
Of disparities of sitting miles apart?
Of what, my love? Of what?
Some things are a feast to our complex thoughts
We know we are tangled
We know we are stuck in a confined room of our mind
But we project it out on the wall in front of us
And its projection is blank
As white and colourless as the colour of the wall
Until someone comes and asks what we are thinking
And we know, "it's just nothing".
That spark is still beheld in its dormancy
Away from any means of communication
Or the willingness of it driven by irreplenishable desires
That once screamed out during the course of night
In the entire span of a day, any day.
Is it fading, much to my fear?
Yet am hopeful, figuring out what went where and why
And how is the sleeping state achieved without the notice of night...?
(To someone who probably will not come across this post. If they do, I hope they'll recognize the charm they have on me intricately woven in the subtle parts of this post.)