When the days that shine run past, You lingering at the side of darkness witnessing the beauty of collateral Damage, a voice will be heard. It is the voice of an angel but she exists only to aspire you to your success which you do not wish to be attained all by yourself. That is where the problem arises. That is when we realize we are humans. That is when we realize we are mortals, the biggest weakness of all. That is when we wish for death.
Ohh says a human
Ahh says the angels
Lord says nothing
And that is when you turn towards the mortals and say we shall all sing the hymn for it is the hymn that binds us to nothing . With nothingness comes something, a baggage of wisdom and some misery
You shall cry for the lord.
In the darkest of the darkest hours of your life, you must understand that happiness is not an illusion but it is something best experienced when shared. The river never flows backwards and the sun doesn’t stop shining and so is happiness which will persist with you even at your last breath. Happiness can be witnessed with only willingness, happiness will shout back at you in the form of a lonely warrior that is eager to serve his kingdom. Remember that happiness is discovered only when you share love. That is all you need to know in life.
Thank you for your time that you have served yourself in seeking happiness. Here is your answer to all the questions of your life. Share happiness and you will seek the true meaning of what life is. It does not matter who you share it with, it could be to your pet, nature, family, friends or only to your one and only friend. Happiness can be shared even when you are alone. It could be shared with an inanimate object as long as you are sharing. Believe me that its not crazy and it will keep you happy. For example you could share your happiness towards your car by driving it or cleaning it so that you could pass it on to somebody somewhere maybe who is in much need than yourself. Simplicity is an another alternative to be happy.
Live, laugh, share.
In the daybreak of a rainy season, the light shines through the window, I am bewildered by the thunder that roars even as some light spreads over the backyard onto flowers and bushes.
The heavy clouds hold as long as it could with droplets waiting to flow at even the slightest snap of your finger and the ground starts to smell good with some sprinkle of water here and there yet you do not feel my love.
The sun shines bright after the heavy drops of success and self consciousness drizzle down onto the earth and remain mere dirt but you are yet to do the dance of fluidity to create a safe space from the rain, the thunder that roars and love that shall be heard by someone in the universe that lives somewhere.
I write this poem to somebody somewhere…..
Like mushrooms that grow to look beautiful, like sunrises that mend your mind, like flowers that gives good fragrance, colour your life to the brightest one you find.
Now Picture a cold morning with dreadful things to come, picture a death bed that knows the end has come, picture yourself in regrets and now believe that the colours can paint the darkness, the colours can brighten your world and paint beautiful scenes right till its the end.
Not a believer? Try trusting your timid mind but make it tell once “I am fine” twice “I am fine” thrice “i am fine” and start believing that everything is alright, play the song in your head in a loop, close your eyes with no fear and look and only look at the brightest day you had, smile at your death, keep the pain away, and enter the sanctum of faith not in God, not in heaven, heck not even in hell but just yourself, your temple of happiness.
Knowing that your are suffering and knowing that everything is not alright is alright, let it go, you were not made for success as you see but you were created for being happy. Believe that trying to die in peace is only thing what you could do. At the end its all that anybody could do.
The moon stays bright at nights where wisdom flows like a river of deeds, the night talks to the boredom girl who sits there beside the stream. Her beauty is not questioned as she lay there amidst confusion of who she is and what she wants.
The girl sleeps that night under a tree near the stream with anxiety clutched on like a life saving destiny but she knows that anxiety kills the deeds. Worried about death a part of life and life after the death she cries inside her mind as nobody would see how captivated she is to seek the wisdom of a little girl as she grows oldest.
Its time to go, the moon shouts, its time to go, shouts the stream, the birds stop chirping and the wolfs howl looking at the moon, well the girl that knows her death has come decides to grow her little girl inside to a grown woman to seek no pain from her fainted memory and she breathes for the last time crying at the treacherous men to whom she meant nothing. Her clothes with all the cuts and the bosom with bruises she lay beside the very river that she survived on.
(dedicated to all the women who were the victims of rape, molestation and discrimination.)