I live in a world,
Where hearts are made of shooting stars,that illuminate smiles.
Where minds are composed of birds flying high,free from constrains.
Where tears are made of fire,not a symbol of weakness.
Where emotions form galaxies,that contain everything.
Where kindness is everywhere and cruelty is nowhere to be found.
Where destiny is the same for all,
Where time favours all.
Where there is no ‘me’ and no ‘mine’,
Where I am you and you are me.
I live in a world,
Where reality is just an illusion,
I live in a world
Of my dreams.
Peace can not exist without distress. Peace depends on distress for its survival. It is distress that controls peace,it’s presence and it’s absence. Peace is thus muted by distress. What is peace then? An illusion or a mere lie?Distress hustles and bustles to bring peace. Peace finally comes. Peace comes after destruction. Peace comes after deaths. Peace comes piece by piece. Peace is thus unstable,peace is fitful ,peace is dead. But we all want peace,even if it means creating distress for others. Distress on the other hand is constant,it makes us feel alive, it tries hard and hard to bring peace,to become peace. This wobbly nature of peace makes me wonder, is peace really peaceful? Actually in life, there’s no peace and no distress.You can never ever be either at peace or at distress what you can do is just BE at the moment.
Let’s burn our egoes,
And smoulder jealousy.
Let’s torch the darkest secrets,
And enlighten the souls.
Let’s irradiate elation,
And reflect positivity.
Let’s emblazon peace,
And flash confidence.
Let’s brighten up our perceptions,
And light up smiles.
Let’s live and let live.
‘Where are you from’,he asked.
She smiled in mockery and said,
‘I am one half from the east,
One half from the west.
One half made of moon and stars,
One half made of sun and fire.
One half dancing with the bracing winds,
One half diving deep into oceans.
One half wandering around the world,
‘And one half, deep inside your heart.’
P.s : This poem is inspired from ‘You Are Drunk’ by thirteenth century Persian poet, Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi.
The theme may be same,but the words are mine. No copyright infringement intended. Please don’t judge. Hope you enjoy reading it.
What I have realised is that fate does not care about my plans. What is supposed to happen,will happen. Neither me nor my efforts can stop something that is meant to happen from happening. But I am not a prisoner of my fate , it is my mind that has imprisoned my fate.
I have realised that the past and the future are illusions. The past and the future do not exist at all. The past has died long before the present, and the future has not been born yet. Hence they are unreal. It is only the present that is real, that matters.
But most importantly, I have realised that my fate, my past or my future do not control me or my life. What controls my life are my thoughts, the choices I make or the decisions I take in life.
You are one, in a million,
The moon in a starry sky.
You are the windy night, of a summer day,
The ray of sunlight in a rainy day.
You are the lone tear of a happy eye.
The dimpled smile of a gleeful child.
You are the touch of red in the sunset sky,
The flek of gold in human eye.
You are a solo in a thousands,
An individual,among a zillion.
Have not been in touch with you since long,so just wanted to say,hi!
You know what, matching up with your pace is not easy . But that’s fine. I smile. I smile through it all. I smile at whatever you bring to me. I smile when I fall, insistent to rise again.I smile at my triumphs, willing to work harder. I smile at my defeats,determined to win the next time. I smile at my mistakes, contended to correct them. I smile all the time.
But keeping that smile all the time is not easy. Still, I manage to smile. But there are times,when that smile fades away. Though, only for a petty period of time. And I go back to my tranquility. But I come back,stronger. I come back more persistent, I come back indurate, to achieve my goals.
His arrival gives her a new life,every night.
And his departure,murders her every morning.
For, the moonflower blossoms only in the presence of the moon,and wilts in the day light.
Memories did not.
His heart was at peace.
But mind was not.
Lips curled a smile on seeing the family he had left behind.
The tearful eyes said a different story.
The walls of his room,felt safe.
But yet he felt chlostophobiac.
It was as if, the repeated hugs from friends held him together.
Yet something crushed him from insides.
With his dear ones,time seemed to be ticking away in a flash.
But why did the fifteen years seem so long?
His life was finally his,full of love and care.
But then why was his mind full of suspicion?
Was he mentally unstable?Was he on drugs? No.
He was the prisoner of war who had escaped from fifteen years of hell.