A damaged soul
needs time to heal and get up.
But it is often mistaken for a slain soldier
that lies in the gory battlefield
and trampled upon.
It's defeated, but it doesn't die
It remembers every feet that trod on it
But finds power in the struggle to overcome
the pain of being mistaken - deep within
It fights another battle which it can't fail to win.
for a word
in a stretched pause
of a cruel moment
The posers won't cease
to nag you
And the answers
will not be forthcoming.
Let the endless questions
catch your conscience
and let the answers
It is in these whirlwinds of thoughts
that you will finally realise
the necessity to forget the unknown future
and the futility to remember the harboured past.
Time doesn't heal.
And the wound knows it.
Layers gather on the ****
but the damage remains,
hiding itself deep inside
the secret scar
time healing wound layers damage hidden secret scar
Trial tries us to check
the strength of our hope
and the sense of our surrender.
It measures our patience,
****** our passionate dreams
and leaves with a constant reminder: Gratitude.
We have become cities
Our dreams high-rises
which feel the morning haze.
Our hearts swanky malls
which are always abuzz, but lonely.
Our ambitions crawling cars
which pollute innocence.
Our thoughts metro trains
which run only between fixed destinations.
Our bodies are urban landscapes
which are eroding
What simplifies life
is not the absolute truth
but acceptance of half lies.
A word comes out
screaming at me
from the blank page.
Unwritten and unsaid till now
it no longer wants to stay
in the white void of mute inarticulations,
but as it leaves the snow-like sheet,
it refuses to show itself to the world
and merges in the
unseen sky of infinite expressionlessness
Foreheads with lines of anxiety shining,
Feet lost in search of a path unknown
Faces bearing a familiarly strange look
Bodies bustling in a crowd of chaos
Hearts strangled by the noose of stress.
They stand in a queue
which follows rules of the daily grind.
They board a train
which has no steam left for new journeys.
The wheels run on tracks
that are too smooth to feel the weariness.
Chart your course
in the pathlessness,
Find your purpose
in the emptiness.
Our monster moments
are too many,
our saintly seconds
make a journey,
make an adventure,
You don't have to
flex your strength
in every battle.
There are many wars
that you have to fight
with your inaction.
It might appear
to be your weakness
but actually holds
the power to bring peace.
Stale memories bite
at the darkness of my soul.
Silences wrapped within silences
haunt my helpless thoughts
Answers dump more questions
on my battling mind.
I stand ripped by my heart's obscenity.
It often happens that you find
some potato chips so irresistible
that you keep munching them
till your hand comes out empty of the packet.
Some desires are so engaging
that you do not worry about overindulging in them
till you realise how they have blanked your heart.
I repent for an irreversible folly, again
but its lingering unpleasantness
doesn't forgive my painful guilt.
Civilisation cracks a joke on our lofty wisdom
And mocks at the shallow progress
that blurs the distinction humans boast of.
It belittles our foolish pursuit
of insanely building skyscrapers of logic
on ruins of common sense.
A cloud breaks
but drops no rain
on a parched heart
In the foggy mirror
of a thought,
of a vague
I stared into
of her eyes
and found a
reason to live.
The dice defies
many a choice
And yet again
in an hour of listless isolation
a past image limns a tear
in the blank sheet of my heart;
An unhealed memory aches
to share a hidden wound's predicament.
A lonely dream sleepwalks
as a blindfolded desire looks on helplessly.
Agony of a loss runs deep in my withering veins
The blood feels dead by a vacuum of nothingness.
The inevitability of a thought
of her indispensability
is built on
We all are fragile hearts
saddled with hope
trying hard to hide
those secret dreams
that weep tears of blood
till the veneer of self-deceit falls off
Pain banishes all barriers,
It pounces where it has to
and wipes out every division.
There's no religion of a cry
Tears speak the same language.
The heart feels the agony
and screams out the sadness
without any distinction.
And there's no difference in
the sigh of an eye.
This ******* of insight,
in a thought
that mocks the shackles
It was a regular day, but with some aberrations and slips.
My wife left the half-finished cup of tea
and hurried to catch her bus, as always,
except that she forgot her usual waving of the hand at me:
a gesture I had grown so accustomed to.
My son carried that burden on his shoulders
and rushed out of the room, like he did
but he didn't bang the door behind him:
a noise that I had got so familiar with.
The elevator had been 'full'
and my steps moved towards the stairs as a routine
Just that the lift reached the ground floor before me
I lost the race that I had been winning till now.
The scooter needed seven kicks to start
and I could smell the belching smoke as I sat to drive
when I realized that something was missing:
the helmet that I could never do without.
The watchman at the gate was busy making some entry
and didn't greet me with that customary 'hello'
I sped past him, without bothering
to offer him back a broad smile.
There were normal bottlenecks
I tried paving my way through the nightmarish traffic
But encountered two cabbies trading punches on the road
and I punched in late.
Putting my bag near my office computer
My hand reached my pocket for the mobile.
I checked it, one unread message:
'Meet me asap: Boss'.
I thought it was about missing the deadline,
But it was another slip: the pink one.
Beyond the layoffs...the invisible ache
— The End —