Do not dream too loudly
You may awaken your conscience

                                        By Phil Roberts

Where gratitude resides there's no hate
Where mind is present there's no death

In my household of four
we go about,
unable to hide our disdain and
dis-contentedness, the fresh regrets
in the mourning of lost time,
there is always an apparent thankfulness because
we weren't born with too much misfortunes, although
circumstances could have been better,
But who is to define the real terms of better
that are always shifting form
in the courses of our existences,
like how back then
the terms of better were to me a library (world)
full of endless books & stars,
loving parents and a youthful, grinning brother
to always be oblivious to the world's troubles
a free, open soul to travel the world
and discover new places and people,
an existence far better than
what the human spirit yearns for,
going beyond the wish that a paradise awaits
for all good of mankind,
an existence that rather
brings the concept of a better world
to life, right here and
right now in the present.
But of now, all I can seem to wish for
are fresh lemons
to flush out the built up toxins and frustrations
in everybody,
a father to stop filling himself
with hot air and oblivion to what he has
especially towards the person
who has been by his side throughout
the world's rains of misery and truth,
a mother to stop being so angry
in her majestic world of self pity and
hard, unyielding pride towards her morals,
a brother to stop growing big enough
to keep throwing things around,
and a dumb, mindless girl to stop crying
and figure out how to get her life back together.

I dwell alone here,
a prisoner within
my own mind and life,
encumbered in burdensome
shackles of my own invention,
locked restraints of self-delusion
to which solely I possess the keys.

================================
And once the storm is over,
you won't remember
how you made it through
A fool hath no delight
in understanding,
but that his heart may
discover itself,
The words of a
man's mouth are as deep waters,
and the wellspring
of wisdom as a flowing brook

Written by
~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~

When life feels suspended by a delicate thread
Change is inevitable
I sometimes feel stifled
Tightly constricted
Like a chrysalis
Struggling against transformation
I oppose the transition
And need more time to adapt
Today
A butterfly tapped against my window
Like change asking to come in
If I can comply with Grace
Maybe I too can transcend
And withstand the butterfly effect