Ignorance, it do provides solace for that moment but once the realization dawns upon the mind and reality hits you of what you gained and what you missed because of that ignorance, It is the heart that has to face the consequences. Whether those consequences be good, pleasant or bad, it’s the heart that has to bear those thoughts.
Whisper of hope
I heard faint whispers,
Whispers of hope, even in the dark,
But, accompanied by dim light of the stars.
Whispers of my unknown name,
Lingered in my ears,
Soothing and delicate,
Like I have known them for years.
Casting shapes in the clouds,
Only I can figure out from the ground.
This whisper of hope,
though faint and dim,
Glide flawless with the wind,
Collecting all my strengths
This whisper of hope,
Digging dreams from my depth,
Taking them to my consciousness.
It let my calmness to grow,
Rhythm of my song to flow.
But I am the amplifier
Of this faint whisper,
Whisper of hope.
Via daily prompt: faint
A twisted philosophy
But it’s not so dear,
First and second degree of act..
Always intriguing and exciting,
With blurry days fleeting and rolling,
Of half memories with no faces.
But the second act,
that’s where the depth comes in.
The subtle yet profound
Meaning of everything.
Some associations of ordinary things,
With contentment in daily life.
Some amusement with trivial segments,
Shifting the mood from blue to pleasant.
The first act,
Being amateur and naive,
Goes on and on
without prior warning.
With no red lights to stop,
And no green to go.
Still, some get lucky,
While some get real bumpy.
But the second act,
If wired shrewdly,
Will become the cause of felicity.
The first act,
Though easiest to plot,
Is an ephemeral drill,
With lots of void to fill.
The second one,
Though hard to design,
Will tell you the right papers to sign.
So enjoy both the degree
Of first and second act of life,
With courage and dignity.
Learn from the intriguing first,
To make the second one best.
Via daily prompt: degree
The cosmic stardust 🌟
Lost between some unknown stars,
And an eclipsed moon,not so far.
There I am, wondering to unravel,
Trying to apprehend,
The mystery of the unexplained,
The riddle of my strange presence.
Is that me,
the unknown in the known galaxy,
Or a normal being of earth,
but in a foreign universe.
Where the air can talk,
Whisper with my songs,
But changes the chorus,
To suite their consonance.
The eclipsed moon,
And the cosmic stardust,
Hypnotize my wisdom,
To make me their perpetual member.
With no sign of feelings,
Whether bitter or pleasure,
Angry or comfort,
This might be a world of neutral zone.
A sense of repose
Even in the turbulent air,
A touch of imperforate,
Even when no one is there.
Existing moment of essence
Whispering, climbing helplessly
Onto never ending stairway of wisdom,
Yet fall off while intersecting
with the looped gamut of emotions.
Oscillating within past and future,
What had happened,
And yet to happen.
But no traces of in between,
Where the thoughts are actually perceived,
The existing moment of essence,
What we call our today or present.
A cloaked face
Like the past six months, today was also the same day for Adrian. He drove again 10 km away from his home to visit the same person who lives in a dark room with not a single ray of light, always covered with a blanket no matter what is the weather outside. An uncommon attire from where you can only see the eyes blinking, as if no other body part is alive inside. He had the same 5 min conversation with this person and asked the same questions again, “Please tell me did you see her? Did you saved her? At least just tell me did she tell anything about me? How can you be so rude? You know very well I am continuously coming here to ask the same questions that only you can answer. On one hand you tell me that you saved every single being from that tragedy, yet you don’t tell me about my love, my life. But still I will not give up. I will come again and again for my love”.
Struggling in the dream
And again it happened,
The backwash of my uncooked rumination,
Become the cause of
my half baked dream impression.
Neither be it utterly forgotten,
Nor completely remembered.
Blurred figure of my blue eyes,
Blinking with weight
Of death of the inner life.
Surrounded by some evil creatures,
With the sound of their evil snicker.
With no faces and no identity,
But filled with immoral laugh at my agony.
A part of lost yet familiar melody,
The rhythm of some lost harmony,
Trying to bud out,
But dies within their diabolic shout.
Who are these critters,
Why are their laugh so iniquitous?
Why my eyes are bereaved,
Why my reflection started to deceive?
Why can’t my dreams be stitched?
Why do they fall away like November leaves?
Why are they scattered so wide,
Where do their fragments hide?
My partly remembered and forgotten dreams,
Imprinted the sense of deep torment,
Though this is just an imaginary pain.
My conscious is still struggling,
Within my subconscious being.
My eyes are still seeking,
The piece of my forgotten dreams,
In the Echoes of empty circle
Embedded in my asleep being.
Virtue of love
Love outlives beyond the life,
Brings heavenly blaze of every kind.
Love is faithful and true,
Possessing the viridity of morning dew,
Vastness in eyes like an utter ocean blue.
It prevails above the materialistic life,
Igniting the spark of strength in soul and mind.
Doesn’t matters being one sided or both,
Love has its power to speak, without any word.
Love isn’t practical, it might be irrational,
But it’s a promise, a true souvenir.
It’s never forgotten, it’s never disappear,
With time, it builds its own composure.
Feeling of love,
Neither silent, nor so loud,
It’s a subtle game of lost and found.
Some find their world in love,
While some lost their existence for love.
Love isn’t something that fades away,
It shows its appearances in disparate ways,
Shocking, yet appealing,
With no idea of what’s next coming.
Love isn’t meant to be concealed,
It’s a remedy that everyone needs.
An example of perfect masterpiece,
Love is the medium of find the unseen link,
It’s the sustenance for every living being.
Via Daily prompt: Viable
A zig zag,
A cross cross,
Of a paradoxical begin.
When to stop,
When to start,
A forward loop,
Or vice versa
For every drama.
One step closer,
To the edge of insanity,
One level deeper,
To the existence of uncertainty.
No escape from this mundane maze,
Of concotion of elation and pain.
Assessing every cheat code,
For easing the way out from the deadlocks.
It’s a never ending repetition,
Commencement of the same sessions.
Task after tasks,
Where luck can hardly pass.
These are just
My rambled words,
With no real content,
As there’s a loophole,
In perception of different thoughts.
Where meaning is ineffectual
Yet futile can be so crucial.
Via daily prompt: loophole
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