Unexpected, but…

Unexpected, but true,

Getting old with a smell of new,

With every passing minutes and seconds,

Subtle, though the change for everything.

From a little rain,

To become a hurricane.

From the colossal woodland,

To become an arid land.

No connection,

When looked from a single point,

Just like an old and torn book,

With missing pages and unadorned look.

But lies a story in the hidden pieces

Of chain of events of subtle changes.

Unexpected, yet fair,

Unraveling the layers of truth,

One by one,

By gathering more guts.

Unexpected, but real,

Where dreams can give tears,

A dream that holds the heart,

Some with screams, some with laughs.

Unexpected, but unique and profound,

Thought process of every being found,

Inner sense of strength and power.

Vested in one and all.


Via daily prompt: static

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.

A midnight dream

A wandering child,

In her midnight dreams,

With her eyes closed,

But has a deep vision,

In her dreams of imagination.

Though in her dreams of darkest night,

She saw her soul in a pure light.

Where she walks on the earth,

To reach the sky.


As long as she is dreaming,

Her earth will meet the sky,

Her step wants to end,

At the vault of heaven.

Where the paradise

Will tell her it’s secrets,

Because she is fearless,

In her dreams of midnight.

She can listens to its secrets,

A secret of happiness,

A secret of virtue.

Where she can share

the secret of her earth,

The whisper of faith,

Giving power to one’s fate.

A priority to deception,

Rather than following morals.

But she can never make it,

As her conscious break in

With her dream dying,

And the silence broken,

With the noise of humans.

She wake up from her dream,

Still wandering, 

Where is she now

and where was she then.

Why the two places 

Are difficult to understand.

Where is the earth she saw,

Where does it meet the sky.

Oh no,

She was dreaming again,

A pure illusion,

An illusion called dream

Where the sky and earth,

Are never really apart.

Where she was swinging among the stars,

Where the pain of lies seems too far.

She is waiting again,

For her midnight to come,

To see the gorge of heaven.

To start her midnight walk,

Where she and the stars will talk.


Via daily prompt: gorge

Beauty in conflicts (revisited)..

To defend or deny what you think is a sign that you are alive. You are definitely allowed to be inconsistent, contradictory and unbound by conventions. But still your job should be finding a neutraliser for your emptiness of existence and not just to succumb to forelornness.

Just because your path is different doesn’t mean you are lost. You are creating a new path, according to your adaptiveness for either brightness or darkness.

You don’t have to be equitable within the circle just to label yourself as a sane person because sanity is the insanity which is the new normality for the society, a persistent cozy lie.

You can be an amiable, cordial person, with a kind heart, and still say no. You can have your limits. It’s true that you have to act in concert to live in the world, but to survive as yourselves, you have to act alone and decide.

If someone is hesitating to choose between you and someone else, help them in making their decision by stepping aside and telling not to choose you. Why bother their hesitation. Right?

You can either provoke the chaos of your conflicting impulses or you can calm it down. You are the creator of your own riddle and trying to solve it just to save yourself from boredom. You are the conflict. You can make it productive by critically creating creative ideas.

You are your only limit. Fears that you don’t face become your limits. Never succumb to these fears. People will definitely push to your limits, but when you finally fight back, you will become the mean one. Let it be. I call it having mastery on yourself which comes from consistently going beyond your limits. I call it enlightenment which comes from expanding your consciousness from the present limits.


A Concealed Smile

A concealed smile,

Hidden by the sea of pain,

So vulnerable, so fragile

There will be scars on your soul,

On your skin.

Some will be outside,

Some lies within.

But don’t give up,

For your smile to emerge,

From the ground so low.

For your face to radiate,

The calmness,

The cuteness,

Which is lost in your torment.

Linger with your hope

In this timeless quiescence,

Don’t put a mask

To avoid your reflection

Drop down your cloaked face

Just be in yourself.

Hide the key to your soul,

Don’t let anyone break off this wall.

Stay within this tomb of yourself,

Dream of your dreams,

Find your happiness,

Hidden in your scars.

via Daily Prompt: Cloaked