“At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book—that string of confused, alien ciphers—shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader.” –Alberto Manguel

Random Posts

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Let It Go

“To hold on to things those are supposed to let go is like working against friction. To be content with all you have and all you’ve lost is how we live, letting go is not giving up. To go through agony of a certain loss is like adding up a scar on your body as a symbol that you fought –regardless, you won or lost the battle. To know that you fought is so comforting sometimes that, it turns into healing and you seek comfort being in agony too. You gotta turn the page over when you’re done reading the last line. When you let things go, you release yourself from the weight that is pulling you down. To find good in goodbye is an art, not everyone can do.”

Made up stories and lies;
all those sad goodbyes,
and the times that you curse now;
like you wanna get over somehow.

Memories and good times;
songs and beautiful rhymes,
lipstick mark on the coffee mug;
muffins that were never enough.

You don’t wanna grow up anymore;
holding a spot that is so sore,
flashback had a beautiful view;
back then you never knew.

Your dreams lost in despair;
have broken heart to repair,
loss that you can’t replace;
you lost direction to the race.
But you gotta let it go now;
I know it hurts though,
and you love someone, who;
loves someone else, not you.
Love is like Russian roulette;
counting on it like every day,
but there is a thing you don’t know;
yeah there’s somebody who loves you.

Horror stories still scare you;
they tease ‘cause you’re not supposed to,
all stupid pictures makes you nostalgic;
you figured out there’s no magic.

Hollow beliefs and rough realities;
you’ve got cold feet and week knees,
it aches the hell out of you;
but you gotta get up and fight back now.

Your dreams lost in despair;
have broken heart to repair,
loss that you can’t replace;
you lost direction to the race.
But you gotta let it go now;
I know it hurts though,
to get the clue;
that some things ain’t for you.


P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Fiction!

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Parallel Lines

Parallel lines –no matter how similar they are, never meet. Not even in eternity as they’re not meant to be, they could be tangent to the same circle but they never have common meeting point. They’re connected by a medium called vacuum, but then everything in this universe or any alternate universe is connected through vacuum. They show same characteristics to same experiences, attain same behavior but never change their own angle to intersect. Not everything in this universe is meant to meet; some things are crafted to be distant and are visibly abstract and mutually or enigmatically constant.

Likewise, expectation and reality sometimes run parallel to each other with absolutely no intentions to meet. Why the hell this world is crazy about meeting two parallel things? Reality and expectations have their own values and to bring them to saturation is to achieve a point where no more reality or expectation can be assumed. To have nothing to assume to kill the possibility of expectation and customize reality and it has always been a combination of muse that has lured many. 

It is a trap, to find the intersection point and be lost in illusion. What seems to be intersection usually is a bend, never intended to convert into an intersection. The point of intersection that is considered and treated as a concept of immense pleasure and infinite opportunities sometimes yields nothing and is the end of everything. To deal with continuity is an art, it is a chain and to break the chain is to break the connection from vacuum or to be separated by vacuum, float like an unknown mass with no identity. 

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Enigmatic Sorrow

“Ever wondered, when everything is perfect like you couldn’t ask for anything else but you’re still lost like longing for something you’re yet to name, yet to explore –that time is now. You’re wrapped with infinite despair, heart wrenching pain that’s devouring you inch by inch. The grand ennui leads you to oblivion; light is absorbed into that oblivion where all your fears reside. Your fears fly back to you on the wings of wind. Darkness, confirms that there was light –once, and you long even more. Reality stabs you even harder and deeper, your spine sends shiver –you’re cold, lost in an empty hallway. Echoes of silence scare you and you want to hide behind the curtains. Sometimes, such enigmatic sorrow is like a nightmare or your last dare to fight back. Your innocence is lost, you are big and all you want is to go back being a kid again.”

They mould me into a human of clay;
under the layers of dust I lie,
and I envy the Almighty;
to Hell or to Heaven I signify?

Referring to eternity;
am I crafted to praise?
all the wonders I come across;
or to curse missed yesterdays.

Time spent goes to oblivion;
brings me enigmatic sorrow,
do they favor me;
gifting me another tomorrow.

No count of how much I owe;
how much do they bless me,
moulding me into a mortal being;
of unknown eternity.

Do I really belong;
to the universe of dust,
to live once they say;
I should die first.

So how many times I have to die;
and go through such enigmatic sorrow,
to feel immense pleasure;
and owe no eternal woe.


P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Oblivion

Sunday, November 9, 2014


“Every time you claim you love me and every time I confirm I don’t –equally hurts, to know being so stone hearted that flowers of love can’t bloom out of the concrete I have been trying to break since ages. Sometimes you feel sad for not loving someone in return, that sometime is now. Time, that only matters in this universe. Love, beyond time and such illusions is forever. Time’s nothing, it’s a misleading concept. May be in some alternative universe, where it doesn't matter –I belong to you. Countless theories may prove time as a concept to measure series of events, what a dogma. But, some things are eternal and one of them as you say is the emotions you have for me. I've been your remedy. But, love isn't a syndrome to which someone is cure. Sometimes, love is an imbalanced equation. To have; does that matter? Love is a chain, a continuum and we've been a part of this chain that never broke.”

Of all the things that ache;
love is the one that aches deep,
gives you darkest scars;
lullabies fail to make you sleep.

To hit exactly where it hurts;
you say is my best art,
I have everything, to say;
what I miss is a heart.

My best is never enough;
trying enough I die,
I've been a remedy you say;
but I doubt, am I?

Is love a disease?
to which I am a cure,
curse missed opportunities;
so sure to be unsure.

I know how it aches;
I've a scar too,
never told you about it;
‘cause it never belonged to you.

Blame it on me;
for all the times you cry ,
I've been a remedy you say;
but I doubt, am I?


P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Inspiration!