One Life To Live

Thursday, April 18, 2024

The Morning Spell

I woke up to the fragrance

Of a nautical twilight

And witnessed the smiling cuckoo's voice

Streaming through the room's skylight

A moment, and some more, passed by

As I waited there

Awaiting nothing

But I let the dreams fly

The tingling bells of my window chime

Chimed and clinked and twinkled

To the touch of the first rays of the sun

They sprinkled

Tales of the journey and moments of yore

That the sun listened

From far across the shore

They entailed the stories of the smiles

That jingled my heart strings

From three thousand and some miles

And I almost hear the voice

That melts my soul

And lets my heart rejoice

Upon the caress of the breeze

The wind chime calls again

And sings the song's bridge

That runs through its vein

With a smile in my heart

And dewy glimmer in my eyes

I go on with the day

As I glance towards the skies

The skies seemed fine

But were still under a spell

Possibly of that smile

And of the tingling bell

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

Of Desires

Of the thousand desires

That rules the human mind

Some are flaunted

And some confined

Then there are those

That rule beyond leaps and bounds

Of mind, of heart,

And of the eternal soul

Amongst the cosmic sounds

A desire to desire

Or be desired

Desires wane

When inspiration gets tired

But somewhere down in the dark

Lies a lone waning desire

That has stepped back for a while

In the busy hustling fire

It was fiery like the sun's core

And loving like it's rays

The waning desire was masked

In the shadows of the ecliptic phase

That phase, too shall pass

When the hope shines its rays

For the sunlight wanes for hours

And the moon wanes for days

Burn like the sun

With all your might

Or glow like the moon

With borrowed light

But the light will wax once more

Keep the faith

And believe in your core

Monday, April 15, 2024

A True End?

The dusk blushed with a flushed purple

And the paper daisy flowers heaved a sigh

For there she was once again

On her way to the roads

That dreamt of the sky

The noises babbled

"sky was the limit", they jabbered

But what is limit's limit

Rarely did their thoughts scrabbled

But she was a traveller

With a dreamer's heart

It was a vain attempt, she knew..

To tell beginnings and ends apart

For time has never been linear

And space is home

To ellipses, circles, and spheres

There would never be a true end

Even if you walk miles or light years

For end has never truly been

Nor does the tale of absolute things

It has always been a mirage

Like folk tales that a tourist strings

So she journeyed on

To the wake of dawn

As flowers bloom

And the life as we know it

Goes on

"Because a journey does not have a true source nor does it have a true destination. Source and destination are mere semblances. Journey is the sole veracity."

Excerpt from 'Enigmatic Horizon'

Thursday, April 11, 2024

Solace in Chaos

Searched for it in the crowd

In the never-ending noises

The crowded streets echoed

Nothing but silence

A silence so chaotic

It had the word of the woods

In the wilderness of the self

A voice hid under the hoods

It had the shine

Of the twinkling brook

That shone during the noon

And essence of that known melody

From the words

Of your favorite book

There was the charm of the cosmic chaos

And pull of the magnetic solace

That travellers often seek

In their journeys of perpetual grace

In the nothingness of the chaos

There was a concept of loss

But there too was a perk of discovery

Of yourself once you swam across

That voice will be your soothing breeze

For journeys that you take

Even a moment's worth of solace

Is paramount in that momentous wake.

Wednesday, April 10, 2024

A Pen That Bleeds Green

Green has never been

A conforming or usual choice

For jotting your mind

Or scribbling your heart's voice

For they think of red,

Maybe even of pink and blue

As all the emotions

A writer's heart could sew

But there's more to a pen

That conveys the thoughts

Of a 'naut freed by love,

And binded in knots

That pen bleeds

But bleeds in green

For it knows the emerald ocean

It carries within

There may be streaks of blue,

Or turquoise and tinges of pink

(But never red or black)

Even when the cosmos tests...

Tests it...

To a treacherous brink

The heart did witness shreds of red

But the pigments would vanish

As the beating breath would thread..

Words of sunshine,

And chimes of breeze,

The smile of daffodils

Into the depth of the inking seas

That pen bleeds

And will bleed in green

For there's always a tomorrow

With a charismatic sheen

Thursday, April 4, 2024

Gifted in breathing

"Gifted" is always not true. Whenever we encounter any creative person, most often than not we think that they must be gifted.

But not all are born with the gift. Not every painter paints a masterpiece whenever they see a canvas. Not every writer strings in the perfect words every time they touch a pen. Musicians too struggle with sounds of monotony. Some, like me, might not even have any intuitive talent for creation.

It takes unwavering passion, dedication, hardwork, and above all, love to continue on that path. Of course, the world might not see the learning curve. Or the passion might often be mistaken as an inherent gift. But flowers that are never bouquet-ed are still flowers.

If it is easy to be a wildflower? It is not. It is not easy... absolutely not easy... to continue doing something in which you are the least bit talented... but the love for the craft, and a hope keeps you going.

Maybe someday you will be able to say it in the words that you have always dreamt of. Maybe someday your words will give a flicker of hope to somebody in need... even if it's just one person. Maybe someday your words will spread the Love you always believed in.

And even if that never happened, atleast you would know you never gave up on your dedication for the craft. And a life lived with happiness, passion, hope, and love is the best one could ever have. So, not having talent is no excuse.

We might not be talented in breathing, but we still do. For Life.

Friday, March 15, 2024

To be Lost

To be lost?

Possibly the ultimate freedom there is.

For you can choose

any path

without a moment's thought

of being lost..

without a fragment of worry

of not measuring the steps right

For you already are lost.

There would not be any apprehensions.

And no obligations either.

There need not be any thoughts

Or a designated path to follow

A path that once promised

to be the only goal...

The goal to be found.

But found by whom?

Why be found

when you can experience the luxury

of being lost.

Be lost.

That's when can you truly explore

without the condition of being found

Or of finding something or someone.

That's when

You can be You.

Wednesday, February 7, 2024

Arp 273

Across the expanses

In the vast fields of cosmos

A thousand flowers bloom

Twinkling and bright

Like woven in a starry loom

Like any other but unlike none

Stars in the fairy dust

Awaited there

For an epoch of dawn

And in a moment

That no one knows when

A marvel dove deep

In that sea of stars

In a dreamy leap

In sprinkles of blue

The vibrance of scarlet perfumed

In a connection moored by destiny

A cosmic rose bloomed

Friday, February 2, 2024

9 Words

In a heartbeat...

In a single fluid moment...

Unintended...

II.

Deep breaths after laughter

And momentary tears of happiness

III.

That miraculous sense

Of being

Absolute... in relative world

IV.

Charm by sunlight

Sparkle in moonlight

Mystical divine Dreams

What has been

and not been is but

Time.

VI.

Eternally cherished

but unfurls unexpectedly...

Destiny, we termed it.

VII.

They express

They hide too

Enigmatic things Words do.

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A little something:

This series of #9words started from January 27, 2024 till February 02, 2024, for 7 days.

It is based on 7 abstracts: Love, Happiness, Life, Dreams, Time, Destiny, Words.