Let me tell you a story about a woman
A woman who stood still when the earth shook violently
A woman who didn't drown when she swam a wave filled ocean
A woman who had her feet flat on the ground even when she was at the middle of a hurricane
A woman who was given many reasons to give up but still decided to go on and hope

This woman is my mother
The mother that I dearly admire
And I forever will be fascinated by how steadfast she is

its just so painful,
so hard for me to comprehend,
that my very soul
would ever fit into the ciphering world,
to speak its lingua franca .

even the abc's seem like
like the burning sensations of a finger
roasting on burning coals.

the Ice never seems to melt under blazing heat
on which it lies

oh how my soul longs to dematerialize
yet i do wish i do not.

Failure is the only bell
that tolls my eardrums

oh why did my green soul  
pluck up the guts

the guts to enter the Kingdom of Geniuses?
i desire an army seal
to set me free
to be free as a citizen
inside this kingdom
The Kingdom of Geniuses

Replace all of your sadness with great joy,
every meter of your doubt with quite convictions.

Take the places of every fear you had with some endurance, all of your anxieties with enough calmness.

You have the influence to make the right choices for your own.
And what really matters, is that the moment you knew the whole you in every ground plans.
All you need is to hold on to yourself - trust;

I am not an angry woman
Though you try to make me so
I’m scrupulous. And sentient
And more than you’ll ever know.

I realise now, I don’t know you either
Not your song, only what you show
I don’t know your passions or your vices
Or what thoughts, through you, flow.

Thus, in that living equinox,
On that line in the sand,
Between all of me and all of you
We make our momentary stand.
You can have me as I choose
I won’t be carved by your hand.

So, look not, oh stranger, for my rage
For such a thing is but infernal
Instead, find in me an endless love
For I am Olga and I am, Eternal.

Punished by the sun
in a desert of our love.

Slipshod the sailing stones,
how dispassion speckles the playa floor,
salt pans dissolve motivating force.

I'm a man returning to his ground.
You're a woman seeking refuge
in the cracked crevices of my rib cage.

So far below sea level,
where does love go from here to survive?

Perhaps, Chloride City
and the grave of a James McKay?

Maybe at Bottle House in Rhyolite,
the "Queen City"?

Either way, this sensation has become an unsacred mirage:

the watering hole, a leadfield,
with which we can only look back from.

Praying the sulfur in the sky
passes on from this place,

before we turn into something sodium, something akin to
Lot's careless wife.

The rain is pouring out of my soul
The roaring thunder left me cold
The blaring lightening is indeed bold
A sad story of a lady behold!
O Lord of the magnificent world
Please give us thy blessing tenfold

There is a hollow feeling within us
supressing the voice to identify us
Never has that kept us in loneliness
But had established a sense of emptiness.
Is that the sound of silence within us,
the emotions of our past reminisce?
Or is it the fear to face the future of us,
with the lack of confidence in us?
Whatever be the silence in us, let the hope in us,
Ever kindle the silence with the sound of endurance.

- Aishwarya Sridhar