I have kept my mouth,
for far too long.
I am ripping apart my lips
from the outside in
and letting the avalanche
of words pour out
and let them do what they may.
I was standing on the porch of my house, which was slowly decaying as the principals that I had made the house from waned. There was a strange whisper in the wind that carried a vague message. It seemed to be a message of hope. Rain was coming. I stood there and stared at the vast sky and anxiously waited, so I could greet it. The sun slowly grew a little colder, from blistering hot to a pleasant warm as the dark clouds that carried rain slowly entered the scene. A smile appeared on my tired face after a very long time. I clapped my hands in joy and stared at the sky and the fields. The rich blend of colours in the scene gave me a new kind of energy, perhaps a fresh perspective. The brown fields, thirsty for rain, moving in waves as wind passed through them. The brown faded into blue and the fields became the sky, which had grey clouds slowly covering its entirety. The yellow of the sun was scarce now, but it was still present.
The first drops of rain came gently, slowly moistening the dry ground. I put my hand forward and let the drops fall on my arm. I took a deep breath and reveled in the smell of rain. The dry soil and the rain drops created a pleasant petrichor which reinforced my bones. I laughed and watched the rain wash and water my fields. For a moment, all my principals grew as strong as ever and my house was renewed. My personality and my character which I had used to decorate the house was enhanced. The floor of empathy and the walls of honesty grew stronger. The roof of kindness and the doors of generosity, the windows of love, the furniture of simplicity, the curtains of hope, the fence of loyalty and the foundations of modesty; everything was suddenly restored or so it seemed. The paint of honour and integrity that covered the house was as bright as ever. I smiled and stepped into the gentle rain. There was a calmness that I had longed for quite a while now. I closed my eyes and let myself soak.
There was a sudden flash of very bright light, followed by a great sound. My eyes opened and I was shaken. I looked up to the sky in question, and there was another bright flash of light and another noise. It was thunder, and it worried me more than it scared me. I have found that loud, invasive and immoral people bring ill things with them, and the same applied to the thunder. It was not just rain; it was a storm. The calm before the storm was but a device of nature, much like the treachery of people who build trust before deceiving you. The rain grew in volume and in intensity and there was a relentless onslaught. The field, I saw were now drowning, and the mischievous water seeped into my house and soon, I was waist deep in a flood. As I waded towards my house, It disappeared right in front of me. There was nothing left, and I stood there in disbelief. All those years, all the hard work gone.
Immersed in monotony, one may wish for time to travel fast,
Make no mistake; all will wish for time to stay.
One should’ve learnt that all of time travels to the past,
And that’s with you, riding on the back, one day.
Although, isn’t a moment measurable,
Not through numbers but through emotion?
Lest one forget, time isn’t always pleasurable,
Like a fine sea, to a flailing ocean.
Shed no tear,
oh, shed no tear!
for this situation
which you believe to be
the demise of you
will eventually pass
and become just a whisper
of what once was.
Dry your eyes,
oh, dry your eyes!
for in life, every situation
that you find yourself in
is simply another stepping stone
towards your own growth
Breathe, my dear,
just breathe, my dear,
for I promise
that in the end
you will emerge and prevail
from the ashes of yourself
and live the life
which you deserve.
The dye is cast,
And the fabric is sodden red.
Amongst the other clothes,
It stands out.
We sat, and you shared the bad news.
Upon reflection, I can’t believe your calmness.
All men die, trust one, one knows,
But to claim the inevitable as some grand design…
There’s pain of the flesh, pain of the soul,
She’d have always said stay, despite the cold.
So I light a fire that roars softly,
The ash wood crackles,
I told myself then, that the wood I see,
Was once a living tree.
The flowers of spring sprout,
A dash of colour amongst the grass.
The pink blossom dances in the breeze,
And the birds sing through the clouds.
Above the tall white mountains.
Yet one may be blind to such beauty.
I seethed amongst this scene,
And slumped against a tree.
My anger seeped through me
An incessant drumming of my fingers,
But I realised later, once I returned,
That my breath could be stolen,
By such a stunning visage.
It was then that I shed a tear,
For once I had yearned for difference,
Surrounded by the difference I yearned for.
Like an actor in a tragedy, I was blind,
Corrupted by my experiences,
Not trialed by them.
My fingers drum a different tune.