Within the Realms

Published at The Writer’s Club

What if
I didn’t catch the wave
Never followed
The signs prepped in line
Never jumped on the train
And just-
stayed here in suspension
For the quickest portion
Of what we define as time
Will I?
Still be able to be with you
Or will you just
Let the patience of the mountains
Drive out the sun
So, I can
seek out on my own
Every waking morning
The rising of its rays
Providing warmth to my cheeks
And it is
The calmness of the ocean
That brings so much peace
But then-
You always come back
Like a ravaging storm
Always ferocious-
with your insatiable desires
Always thirsting for more
Always forcing me to outgrow
A former conception
A previous form
To rise anew
With the sprouting leaves of spring
That dangles and dances
During a cold winter day
And you always manage
To heat up the echoes
We forged in unison
That these seasons don’t matter
Now that our dreams
Are coming alive
With the singing of birds
And the gentle hums
Of a clear, crisp, cool stream
And just right after
a night of a clearing rain
You lay there contently
humbled, settled
within the realms
of a deep slumbering lake
catching our hopes and dreams
Letting it be tossed
by the unforgiving river
back to seas
To the trenches
of our beliefs
taking roots to the furthest end
along the infinite lines
of our minds
etched and carved
in these branches and dendrites
are nothing but-
our memories and desires
in perpetual seeking
of that single frame of us
back in each other’s arms.


The Scent of Eternity

It was-

The scent of eternity

That always leads me

Back to her

It had always been easy

Finding our way

Back to each other

Always as if

The next logical step

It doesn’t even matter

If the darkest of clouds

Roll in

Or we are having

The fairest of the weathers

I always hear

Her softest whispers

Her subtlest tugs

Her well-kept demeanor

Her overpowering amount-

Of self-control

Carefully concealing

Those eruptive emotions

But it only does

Quite the opposite

Because I deeply feel it

Evoking my soul

Stirring an unwelcomed storm

During a bright sunny

Cloudless day

Forcefully coming in

With its tempt and allure

Appearing dark and cold

But her roars of thunder

Always give her away

Bringing with her

Once again-

That cool cleansing rain

Appeasing the senses

From the tragedy

Of this waiting game

Oh, the scent of eternity

The smell of petrichor

Making the flowers of Spring

Bloom wildly

After such parching heat

With dew drops glistening

On her pink petalled skin.

In response to Sadje’s #WDYS

Rustling with the Wind

Photo by Aakash Sethi on Pexels.com

Published at The Writer’s Club

She ran into the open field

where the grass and wheat

uninhibitedly danced with the wind

as if freedom and peace communed

walking proudly at each other’s side

and I followed every sign 

the brightly lit gaze

they have during the darkest

of nights

as it always led me

back to a familiar scent

of our quieter nights

when we mimicked 

the sound of bugs and fireflies

the rustling wind echoing

with our every moan 

tucked away in naivety

played with the dullness of innocence

hummed to the deepest

pleasure of the soul

breathe as I try to catch it

gone like the flickering lights

of distant stars fading

shining at different skies

it was the sweat and heat

that made us secured from the cold

but it was always 

that sweet coy laughter 

bringing such pleasure to my ears

oh that shine in your eyes

as we finish 

the song of heavenly choirs

holding love tightly

in each others arms

life may have given us 

a lot of grays under these sheets

but with you

the dullest of days becomes 

a God given masterpiece

filled with vibrancy of colors

the lunacy of the moon

and a wide spectrum of chained delights

oh the madness of hanging oneself

upon the treacherous desires

of eager longing emotions

only to be fulfilled 

by the person you love

oh how innocence revealed itself

only to be eroded 

in the arms

of her sweet embrace

her fiery lips

and the softness of her skin

all the while-

I hear the bells

playing, rustling with the wind.

Amongst and in Between the Stars

Published at the Writer’s Club

Photo by Rakicevic Nenad on Pexels.com

So- I started singing back

The words into my life

That no melody

Was sufficient enough to explain

Or could even conquer

The depth of my emotions

To which became

An open expression

Of the most flustered flowers

That fully bloom

Not only in the spring

But even during

The coldest of the winter winds

Because I realized

Whatever season it may be

I don’t have to drift

With the seeming apparent

Dictated weathers of my life

I can always be

Sitting here at the peak

At the observer’s POV

Dancing and smiling

To whatever that comes

With surrendered judgments

As to what is good and negative

I glide- with a heart full of hope

And suddenly these,

distant expectations of gratefulness

Become as near

As the sweetest fervent whispers

Of a lover in deep longing

For a kiss satiated fully

With the aroma of passion

And the scalding heat

Of one’s maddeningly burning desire

To fulfill what he truly is

Standing in his truth, unwavering

Despite what

the outside appearances may seem

Oh, how lovely it is

Breathing in

The poise, grace, and magnificence

That faith brings

So, it appears-

The most beautiful sound there is

The silence when you are

Amongst and in between the stars

In the calmness of a late

February night

Alone on the rooftop

While the whole world

Arrested their rumblings

in their own meticulous dreams

And everyone is just-

peacefully slumbering

And the words,

the silence, and the melody

With or without

Everything, all of it

Even the stars and distant galaxies

Stopped and continued within.

Music He Wrote

Photo by Steve Johnson on Pexels.com

I listened 

To the music he wrote

To a symphony without words

The one that reaches 

Directly to your heart

Surpassing your every wall

A complete penetration of the soul

And I allowed it

Without hesitations

It transported me 

Back to the Ether 

Where I was born

When I waited for someone’s conception

Of who I am supposed to be

The innocence of only having

Awakening in pure consciousness

It was in God’s imagination

That I awoke in and took form

To become-

The lovely Being that I am now

Walking this Earth

Trying to have

The purest of intentions

And this all

Started with the music

That reminded me 

In a short span of time

Who I am 

Without the labels and attachments

To Earthly achievements

In those moments of remembering

I felt the lightest

And possibly

The most profound

Of my existence

All thanks-

To the music he wrote

Of muted words and syllables.

Published at The Writer’s Club, a huge thanks to their team.

The Focal Point, in the Midst of Events

Published at the Writer’s Club

when I judge others
I only judge-
the unconscious parts of myself
the world is merely my mirror
this is enough to shut me up
but the resentment, anger,
and frustrations haven’t died down
it boils at my very core
so I run
towards the seas
and the boulevard
heading to the edge
of the pier where the waves
relentlessly crash
against concrete and cement
in a perpetual movement
reminding one of nature’s
never stopping motion
and that every once in a while
it does permit itself
to blow up out of proportions
ridding itself
of unsolicited darkness
and other people’s lament
so I am okay
decades and decades
of groomed negativity
do not all go
instantly away within months
of reprogramming the mind
but I am- in a constant change
right in the middle
of a wide array of perspectives
peeking through different timelines
while converged in a single point
of singularity- the present, the now
the focal point of the Iam
in midst of these variety of events
and probabilities
all laid out in a frequency map
realizing life- no longer is
an enigma but a phenomenon
of my beliefs, thoughts, emotions
so I persist in my imaginings
until I am firmly rooted, grounded
to the state of my choosing
and I am not gonna be able to do it
without faith, conviction, and courage
that drives my Being.

©All Rights Reserved

Awareness and Her Dilemma of Two Self-Concepts

Sadje’s #WDYS

I am awareness
she introduces herself
sitting at the center
of her own emerging dilemma
sandwiched in between
her two self concepts
a pair of lifeless sculptures
having different state and persona
one is her previous self
the other- well,
should be her present
yet, she’s right in the middle
carefully considering
which one to possess
thinking whether to embrace
the comforts of familiarity
or persist on a self-image
she now hold so dear
the one acquainted with worth
and nobility
she knows,
the path to the old is filled
with yesterday’s assumptions
stuck in a loop
of changeless horizon
plagued with the monotony
of a straight line
frustrations well up
while the new persona
leads her to a route
brimming with uncertainties
circumstances she has yet to see
unaccustomed to
peculiar occurences
as she continues on
rearranging her mind
events suddenly materialize
bridging her
to the vision of herself
but then doubt once more
swiftly makes an appearance
the devil tricks her
to her own self denial
wondering aimlessly
sinning and missing the mark
perhaps a little reminder
a little nudge for self belief
feel how much joy it brings
falling for a state
canopied in her ideals
whilst caccooned in this
new self-image
making the present statue
slowly come alive
rediscovering her world
through her reframed
state of mind.

©All Rights Reserved

awakening of the Iam


I awoke too many times
in many different forms and personas
transitioned in the appearance of time
rousing myself awake
to the reality of who I am
I may have claim that I am
of too many races
baptized with too many names
But Iam only one Being
and in all I dwell
even those of differing beliefs
believer and non-believer alike
at the very core, it is me
there is no other
I have entered too many characters
played too many roles
occupied so many images
turned every mirage
to a blossoming oasis
breathed life to a million
patterns of thinking
I slept on so many of my visions
Fell madly in love with each creation
entered each picture
out of my own volition
went through every
possible limitation
dragged myself to hell
to ignite the spark
and awaken the Iam
that slumbers through
the soul’s amnesia and forgetfulness
the never ending story
of all of us
seen and experienced
in the spectra of perspectives
the journey within
is the coming home
before all the emanation
and somewhere, somehow
we all are that form
always seeking our next conception
gearing towards another
ideologic occupation.

©All Rights Reserved

colors, hues, and the essence of it

Reena’s Xploration Challenge

how does one hear colors
when there were once
laughter and fireworks
now it’s- the numbing silence
of longing and broken promises
how does one see its effects
when everywhere you turn
the lenses of adulthood
suffers from astigmatism?
how does one provide
a sufficient description
when all through her life
all she tasted
were the insipidities
of a poverty drenched life
how does one feel
the spectrum of its essence
when the whole world
is color blind
with the gripping need
to paint the skin in order to
feel something within
drive ourselves to the extreme
taint our lives to some extent
just to realize we are actually living
oh how I wish trees
emit hues with oxygen
that everytime we breathe
we glow a little
then we can all stop taking it
from our lil’ munchkins and kids
perhaps, we can learn
to create it within
so we never have to steal it
or beg it from someone else
and no matter how achingly dull
everyday may seem
in our hearts we carry
not one but-
a spectra of colors
each having their own
magnitude and fullness
so vivid in expressing
the gradation of our characters
the uniqueness of our traits
which blossomed from
our random dreams
while lively immersed
in each of our roles
here on this plane called Earth.

©All Rights Reserved