Pain/Hope

Hi All,
I know its been a long time since my last post. But the blame rests on a silly project and my mad boss. All's well now ..... the silly project's over and my boss has gone crazy.

Enjoy the new post.

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Lying on my bed, staring at the dark ceiling,
I pray for the pain to subside; any healing.
The heart beats so hard, I wish it to explode,
the burden so huge, my chest heaves with the load.

The pain shook me out of my wonderland,
my castle vanquished, as if it were of sand.
I pass through the low of the "what if" phase,
onto the anger of "why not", in a state of craze.

The pain engulfs; follows me like my own shadow.
How I wish I could discard it out of the window.
The grief wants me to believe in divine intervention;
almost hoping that joy was His ultimate intention.

The pinch, now and then, makes me feel alive.
An energy source, on which my heart can thrive.
It now resides in me, shares my soul; a brother.
It makes me think; view it as a lesson rather.

The lessons, the wisdom that comes along with it,
is priceless; more than one would like to admit.
The buzz persists; I raise my head and look around.
Wonder, who smiles and who isn't under the pound.

Each battles within, defeated by their own ghost;
with a complete profile of pain and loss to boast.
Wait! Is this true? Why does everyone look akin?
Or does the picture reflect the turmoil within.

The voice whispers a few words into my ear;
not to turn around, not to shed a tear.
I open the distressing bottle of red wine,
spill it away; better than spilling brine.

Now, I am in search of the sign of new hope,
rested and ready, to rise up the uneven slope.
The fear of failure, of slipping comes to mind.
But that's where the delight lies; I remind.

The hope transports me back to wonderland,
my castle restored; each grain, each strand.
I pass through the high of the "to be" phase,
onto the surge of "I do", in a state of craze.

Lying on my bed, staring at the bright ceiling,
I pray for the joy to inundate; divine feeling.
The heart beats so hard, I wish it to explode,
scatter the love to wherever my blood flowed.

I

Sometimes, in the dark of the night, I
brood and reason for as to why
the mind rules and the heart must underlie
and how I came to be and love I.

For centuries, the world has warred
for the love of power or woman; how odd.
The fight wasn’t for supremacy, no just cause;
it was to justify a life and hide the flaws.

In my world, my galaxy, everything is at peace
coz before the lust of power, is the love for me.
I don’t need to kill and destroy to prove,
for there’s not much in me to improve.

Nothing to hide or justify, the pride swells unabated.
I watch the world, bleed and destroy, sedated.
I build my own clouds, float and fly over the crest.
The kingdom in the sky is mine, no one can wrest.

For centuries, the world has prayed
to anyone who could come to their aide.
The hymn wasn’t sung in the glory of the Lord,
it was to justify and hide the guilt of the sword.

In my world, my galaxy, everything is right;
no wrong, no sin; coz here, the Bible I write.
Spare me the story of the Good and Evil; don’t tell,
for I’ve already booked myself a room in hell.

The world, so flawed, has wanted me to abide.
They’ve schemed, ployed, to get me on their side.
But nothing can buy my freewill, that I’m certain;
I would rather rule in hell than serve in heaven.

For centuries, the world has strayed,
searching for land, water and shade.
The quest wasn’t for a land, safe and green,
it was to hide the truth, of what life does mean.

In my world, my galaxy, everything is clear
coz to search for the meaning of life is quite queer.
The journey so beautiful, I live each day anew
for if you close your eyes, life would have flew.

Come embrace my thought, I sell you peace;
why do you grind and die, live a life of lease.
Think of yourself as the Lord and pray;
the magnificence will engulf, each day.

With the threads of life in my hands, seems so fine;
I rest and meditate, am safe, in my own shrine.
Howsoever you would judge me, I would never lie,
the fact remains, the centre of the universe is I.

~ dedicated to Kapil and his infectious narcissism

The Renaissance

Once, in the city of Constantinople
a great Emperor ruled, truly noble.
His court offered many a pleasure
but there was one, worth calling treasure.

A magnificent creature, a dove so white
they say, even the angels paled in its sight.
It was fed a royal treat of date and raisin
and lived in a cage of gold, that felt so brazen.

Porschia, a symbol of purity she had become;
with no uncertainties in life to overcome,
lived a life of bliss, unquestionable
and became part of every lore and fable.

As she lay in the glory of the Great Church
an uncouth raven flew in through the porch.
Appalled by its presence, Porschia cried out
“What brings you here, you disgusting lout?”

Unimpressed, the raven bent down to its claws,
to a worm; Porschia thought, another of its flaws.
With gusto it tore into its prey,
leaving Porschia with no words to say.

The stench, overwhelming, Porschia said,
“Eat the raisin and spare the dead”.
It crowed, “This is what I pay to be free,
I wouldn’t trade it, not even for He”.

With this it spread its wings and soared high,
making a spectacle, too good for her eye;
It left her gasping in awe and dismay
and wondering, what could have and what may.

The uneasiness in her heart made her cringe,
She didn’t understand the reason; why it made her twinge.
She turned to the Great Church for a sign,
He didn’t disappoint; the Lord is benign.

Across the heavens swooped a kite,
callous and ugly, but beautiful in full flight.
Alone in her chamber, she gave her wings a pinch,
spread it out and tried, but couldn’t fly an inch.

The bars of gold, she thought, that kept her protected
wasn’t meant to pamper, but keep her restricted.
The chance encounter had made her realize,
that this wasn’t she but a compromise.

It had taken her a life to know the fact
who she was and what was her act.
Her heaven now felt like a prison
there was no wish to live, no reason.

Her wings ached to break free,
to soar high and over the sea.
The dates and raisins, now made her squirm
her last wish was to dine on a worm.

The morning left the great city aghast,
the magnificent creature had breathed her last.
But Porschia was in able hands,
the raven and she, soaring in God’s lands.

~ Dedicated to Appy and her self-inflicting discipline

Uneasy Life

Oh! How it came to become this song.
The burden of life I carry along;
With each step forward, I look behind,
and feel the uneasiness in my mind.

Why can’t one be true to the deal?
It wasn’t supposed to bleed, but heal.
With each moment that felt like a dart
I cry with the uneasiness in my heart.

When I shut my eyes and hope for a sign,
on the unending journey so fine,
I stumble around in the dark,
Desperate, to make my own mark.

Wait! I hear a voice call out to me,
not to break the line and be part of the queue.
With each second that keeps me from my goal
I live with the uneasiness in my soul.

~ An original take on life