Hell was the name of his place called home,
he would do anything, to escape, no energy would he lack
for a simple reason to run and never get back..
The myriad squatters, the teeming hopefuls, gathered again, running, chasing and stomping over each other. The stench of sweat, those stains of phlegm, native expletives, randomly muttered. In this cacophony, in this rush, all he found was a mute isolation. Those heads popping out, their throbbing figures - mere images or figments of his imagination, swarmed just to make him realize - he was no anomaly, just a part of them may be estranged, or was as fabled to them as they were to him. Over the years, wizened skin and withered thoughts will teach him it was more than fictitious world who enticed. He will figure it was his gullible loneliness which fell for the luscious maneuvers of the crowd. For now it's public, for him, this longing for delusion and need to be misguided. The urgent desire- to mingle with the pile of thick, black smoke, belched out by that mighty industry's nozzle- to that extent where he is as good as not to be recognized, shedding the need for disguise and that urgency to hide.
Assuming we were empty canvases, I splashed at you.
And you stained me.
I started with Green and set you Free, then you threw Blue,
much higher it Flew.
Yet when it Landed it missed Me.
I offered some white, not wanting to fight,
you Declined and said, Red awaits Me.
Then the unexpected happened when Lights went off and all went Black,
neither could I hear, nor could You see.
The Impact of dark was so profound and stark that even when it went Bright,
I was You and You were Me.
I so Wish by Now I was you and You were Me !!
I discovered a few unknown drops today. Once they were called Tears.
Those days they used to come attached with Emotions - mortifying sadness or inexplicable joy. I could arrange the drops up one by one on tip of my five fingers, look with vengeance if they were reason for ire or snap them with subtle delight had they brought pride to an otherwise lifeless dwelling.
But these were utter Blasphemy from eyes which didn't know - the norms of normalcy lies in designating and labeling.
These unnamed packets though, crisply packaged, are nothing more than orphan Kites.
Kites which float by the day to every child's fancy, but by evening are left to their own Plight.
Thinking drops they were, I set them free like Doves in search of distant peace.
My reaction was a tad too Late. Till then the strange wetness had vanished to nix.
Perhaps, the receptacles were a layered Truth over thirsty eyelids.
It made them Glitter but hardly quenched what remains an unending Thirst.
Everything happens for a reason, and is Destined, so we often tend to loose belief in our Hope's, trusting that everything is pre-written and nothing can be re-written, so Why Hope or Wish !?
What if He wrote "As you Wish" in your Destiny !?
So Never Stop Hoping, or Believing in your Dreams, your Destiny is in your Actions.
Kyunki kismat toh uski bhi hoti hai jiskey haath nahi hotey, haathon ki rekhayein badali ja sakti hain..kaun kehta hai ki aasmaan mein suraakh nahi ho sakta, ek pathar toh tabiyat se uchaalooun yaaroon !!
P.S : For Fortunes change, moods too would
turn from Somber to gay..
What if they don't !?
'May be Another day' I'd say !
True Love is Better than The First Love Any-day !!
