Misfit

You trickle into my life like rain in November

and imbibe a part of my soul.

You take a hold of it, you morph into it

sometimes you call it home.

 

But remember, when you leave me,

and I say when and not if

you take that particular part of my soul with you

that’s how it is, call me crazy, condescending or childish

 

the way you take that part of my soul,

that shining shield to match your armour of gold,

it depends on how you leave me,

on the reason the salt flows from my eyes to the sea.

 

You might rip it away forcibly

or shatter the part itself as you hammer it away, while cracking and chipping the rest

or I may give it to you willingly, biting down the pain it causes me

for I have to let you go

 

A new part will grow in its wake, as it always does

the essence of time will heal the cracks, as it always does

 

That is the reason why my soul is juxtaposition of asymmetry

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A Solitary Walk in My Hell

Sometimes a solitary walk in your own personal hell is all you need to silence the million malignant voices in your head.

When the eyes see beyond the shackles of the heart, those are the true moments beauty enthrals you in all that the universe has said.

Those are the moments to hold on to forever.

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Half Past One on a Summer Night

I sighed a sigh on a summer night

the moon in its half innocence right in the corner of our eyes

the warmth radiating through our palms and finger intertwined

the freshly cut grass sweetly stinging my calves

we saw a firefly dissolve into the kingdom of the stars

they glistened and reflected in his eyes, his eyes that were made for mine

His coat on my shoulders, his voice humming my favourite song

I closed my eyes, I’d never felt so happy to be lost

the musky breeze messed my meticulous locks

I didn’t bother, my hands were right where they belonged

he pushed the hair out of my eyes and laughed

I smiled, knowing the universe and I were one

I was where I was meant to be

I was right where I finally belonged

 

 

 

About Nothing and Everything All at Once

I sat in my favorite corner in the library, breathing in the magic and utter magnificence of shelves and shelves of stacked works of art waiting to be opened and cherished, veiling words endowed with the power to change life as you know it. I gazed at all those books, and as always I was overwhelmed by the legion of voices, thoughts and ideas that made it to print, that will be preserved in paper and ink forever. And then slithered in a thought. My exuberance was shadowed and I felt sad as I thought about all the wonderful books I’d never read. I thought about all the stories I’ll never know, all the voices I’ll never hear, all the feelings I’ll never feel.

What of all the thoughts I’ve had and never told anybody. What of all the wonderful things I’ve said when no one was listening. What of all the words in my diary that no one will ever feel. What if in one particular moment in the universe, had there not been a simple affecting factor and my words would have been heard by the right person exactly at the right moment, a life could have been drastically altered. What if that alteration would have been for the better?

If someone asked me what the point of life is, I would say there is no point. Bad things happen to good people, innocents are slaughtered, hard labor isn’t rewarded, happiness is a mere fleeting chimera, a writing in the sand washed away as soon as the tide rolls back in. But in all honesty, I don’t know what the point of everything is. Lost moments, lost time, lost people, lost love, lost words, they can never truly be recovered in their pristine divinity. So what was ever the point in their existence? It’s like grabbing air in your palm and trying to hold on to it.

A million questions. A million worries. A million doubts. A million fears. A million regrets. How are you supposed to be okay with living in such uncertainty in an ever transient universe, with the ever increasing probability of a million things going wrong. Loss. Death. Pain. Grief. Injustice. Loneliness. Darkness. Rejection. Wrong Decisions. An unfathomable utterly endless infinity of dark prospects.

I truly am nothing but a bundle of contradictions. I’ve said this before, there is a touch of melancholy in everything beautiful, a shade of black in every colorful combination, a thorn in every rose. A million unread books for every one book that you do read. A million unsaid words for every word you say. A million bad days for every good one.

 

I Didn’t Want to be the One to Forget

“It didn’t matter what they wanted to see

He thought he saw someone that looked just like me

The summer memory that just never dies

We worked too long and hard to give it no time”

Those memories that are imprinted in your soul end up defining who you are and who you become in the course of your life. And these memories, most of the times, are nothing but an essence of the people you meet and the effect they have on you. What I do not understand is why more often than not these moments turn out to be nothing but sheer agony. The pain of knowing that you have to part soon and forever isn’t a privilege you’d have, that is what makes me question what the point of everything is. Why is it that we attach ourselves to people we know will leave us eventually? Maybe the Red String of Fate is what binds us to them, to people we feel an inexplicable attachment to, something I fail to put into words as I wonder at the sheer beauty of it all and my undeniable sorrow. It’s like looking directly at the brilliant Sun, you can’t help bowing before its pulchritude but it hurts your eyes beyond anything.

I’m nothing but a bundle of contradictions. I’m happy because of things that make me happy, but I’m also sad because I’ve lived long enough to know that all good things end. There is a hint of melancholy in everything beautiful, at the aspiration of wanting more, at the fear of losing it, at the realisation that maybe it never existed, maybe it was all just in your mind.

And it hurts to know, to realise, that all you can do, as the mighty universe stands against you, is forget.

(Quote: Lyrics to Instant Crush by Daft Punk)