Magic

Magic

Far away, deep down the horizon,
lightning strikes and the land
that has been craving for a drop of rain,
in the hope that it’d vanish all the pain,
awaits magic.

The wait kills. The wait grills.
Each moment, the longing gets crushing
to the extent that the land’s heart
rips apart a crack with each lightning.
But the hope remains
and gets firmer with each crack.
The void caused by the crack
gives space to the hope
for it to rope in some breath. Continue reading “Magic”

Behind the Black

behind-the-black

Black is a color that makes you sick.
What is it about it that would still stick?
What lies behind it is vital.
And what it shelters is my pick.

It is not easy to hide the hurt
nor is it a child’s play to smile in pain.
If black can hide it all why can’t you?
Why can’t you act new and shining
as he does?
Why can’t you absorb the heat
as he does?

Continue reading “Behind the Black”

Let it Go

Silly is the word for you, my dear self.
You’ve got to listen to me if you need help.
You hang on to things which don’t matter,
or, at least, which don’t matter anymore.
Sham hopes and cunning mirage, you adore.

You tax in staying stuck to what repeals you.
How are we going to move on together
unless we listen to each other
and reach to an agreement
that whatever happens, happens for good.
There is not point staying glued.
Continue reading “Let it Go”

Misfit

I wonder sometimes
How is it that anything I do
Or anything is say,
Anyway I play
Or even how I pray,
It is always too little
For what the world demands.

The World. Who is he? Or is he?
I am the world. Or am I?
If I’m the world, how is it that
I’m deficient for myself?
And if I’m not the world,
How is it that I care so much
for him to care for me,
Or some love
for him to spare for me?
Continue reading “Misfit”

The Other Side

Through the safe haven
Looking at the world
Is never the real deal
Nor does it make you feel
What it is actually meant to,
What the god would intend to.

Things may seem as they are,
Right in front of your eyes, they may pass.
But they are far away from real,
When seen through a glass.

Flowers may seem blossomed
Through the crystal clear glass
But what about the fragrance
And the scent of innocence
That you might have inhaled
Had you stepped out?
Continue reading “The Other Side”

Follow

Follow!

%d bloggers like this: