Labyrinth

It is starting to feel like I’m stuck in a labyrinth with no escape while the world continues its quests. The sun rises against the darkness and the darkness against the sun. It’s all a vicious circle of nothingness: the tides that rise and fall, hitting the shore as if begging it to sink along with them in the bottomless abyss. There’s water in that magnificent ocean which gives birth to life, has life inside of it and engulfs it too. One moment it’s calm, upheavals everything the next. Chaos killed by chaos. Life killed by life. Aren’t they the same thing though?
Infinite creations. Infinite existences. Infinite beings. Infinite ends. Worth a thought isn’t it? Why are there these enumerable shapes and shades and forms and fragrances? Soothing and beautiful and unbearable and lethal all at once. Is there ever an end to all this? The oblivion. The desires. The mysteries. The fantasies. The fears. Anything? The past haunting the present. The present refusing to become the past. It’s all transient yet it is imperishable. Millions of thoughts running through my mind in the fraction of a second. How are they born? How do they die? Do they? A myriad of illusions turning into reality. It rains, the leaves fall and then it snows. Colours change, and so does the wind. Should I put my leg forward or take a step back? Should i move at all? I stand, bewildered- In menace and admiration. Surrounded yet alone. Free yet captivated. And I wonder: is there an end to this nothingness? I have been walking since ages, but i am still stuck in the same labyrinth with no escape.

What is art for you? Is it magic? Do you think its an illusion that you mistake for reality? Do you believe in any of that? Are you drawn to it like bees to the flowers? Do you crave for it? Do you thrive on it? Or is it all a lie, just like the whole existence of it?

The hurt.

The truth is, we’re all suckers for pain.

We’re like moths drawn to a flame.

We know it’ll burn us, yet we run towards it like it’s our only escape.

We know exactly where it hurts, and no matter the pain, we actually like to see blood oozing out of those wounds.

We don’t have memories-except our past.

We don’t have stories- except our scars.

We try to conceal them and we fail, cause somewhere, we secretly want to sing about them.

We want to scream and tell this world all about the path that led to what is.

And the truth is, we are our own killers. We are our own saviours.

We are the broken, we are the hurt. Despite that, we put on a brave face and fool none but ourselves.

We are lethal. We are the warmest danger. We are the demons, we are the angel: Yes they exist.

TEMPTATIONS

You know what is tempting?

The way our eyes meet,

The way we sink in them- the mysterious depths of our souls we can’t reach.

You know what is tempting?

The way our hands touch,

The way our hearts beat- together, like the tides uprooting the ocean.

You know what is tempting?

The way our skins merge- like dawn and dusk at the horizon blending the sky and the sea.

You know what temptation is?

Look at how untamable we are,

breathing in our own vulnerabilities.

The way we live and die for one another- every minute of every day….

If only you could watch with the eyes of your heart beyond the crust of what you see,

I would swim across the oceans and show you the infinite temptations of this infinite universe;

And then you would know the temptation of how beautiful together we could be.

Winters

She kept waiting for you.

Her diary full of wine glass marks as she wrote about how you made her rainy days shine.

Oh how naïve she was! She kept sitting by that window as seasons changed.

Cold grew her coffee. Her lips went dry.

Her feet froze from dancing with the glimpses of you that she had.

She made an album from her memories of you, and her eyes stuck at the sky.

She wrote your name with her fingers for hours as days passed by.

Her life became abstract trying to make you  a reality.

Oh how blinded she was by those unfathomable illusions that never left her side!

She fell in love with everything she once hated.

She turned into the rarest cliché.

For even winters fell in love with her, but you! You never came by..

Dreams

 

Everyone has their idiosyncrasy. Every person has a purpose. This world doesn’t work in black and white. It doesn’t know ebony and ivory: it’s this infinite colour palette that never runs out of shades. It keeps playing hide-and-seek, rising and shining,  beaming and roaring, hiding and soaring. It is a phenomenal artist, and so are you. The only difference is that you don’t know. So when next time when someone asks you- “Are you an artist?” Without a thought say yes; you know why? Because you DREAM. That’s why.

You dream and there’s nothing more prolific than that. It’s the purest form of creativity. Your dreams drive you, they are the only thing that shape you. They are the truest, most heartfelt feeling. They are an inseparable portion of you that’s eternally carved on every cell, every tear, every smile, every breath and every drop of blood of yours. And you know the most wonderful thing about them? They’re yours and yours only. They’re going to be by your side even if the sky falls. All you have to do is embrace them and make them something more than just “dreams” and like this ever-changing mesmerizingly magical universe, learn the art of setting them free yet never letting them go.

Faded

We are masters of manipulation,

standing at new heights of hypocrisy.

Preaching salvation to others,

drowning in the whirlpool of our own sinful deeds.

We “appreciate” the inner beauty,

so we go on cutting and killing flowers cause we think they’re pretty,

and we cut and kill ourselves cause we think we’re not.

We mend everything we can on the outside, but we keep crushing our hearts and we smile.

We become everything we are not, but we don’t realize-

that a star is nothing but the sun which faded itself to fit into the sky.

The girl who always smiled.

She. She was not the funniest or the smartest person in the room. Definitely not the prettiest. She was just a “someone”, waiting, like another flower in the garden, for her turn to blossom. She  had a million dreams and a thousand fantasies. Most of them crushed like those pieces of paper with meaningless scribblings all over, lying, waiting for someone to pay heed and admire it for all its worth- but that was the irony. She herself didn’t know.

She was a fragrant catastrophe. She brought out the storm in people. She was a dreamer and she was curious about everything there is. Limitless. She loved too much- and you could see it in her eyes.  Her eyes…So alluring, the kind you get lost in. They hid galaxies and oceans and everything that this infinite universe of ours holds within.  For her lukewarm was no good.  She wasn’t perfect- no one is. She was just this ethereal soul stuck in some mesmerizing, mortal attire,  adorned with the most magnificent flaws. She was a million colours in a world that only knew black and white. Poetry, in a world that was still learning alphabets.

She had a different view of aesthetic. A different view of humanity.There was nothing she couldn’t do. She breathed life into everything she touched. She was like the moon during the day- beautifully out of place.

She made a lot of mistakes and had endless regrets. She knew what it was to not have that one thing you could die for. She knew what it was to live with all the dreams unfulfilled. She knew what it was to be lonely, to be broken and walked on, to never be “enough”. She was the perfect example of betrayal cause everyone she ever trusted broke her. She was like an open book and she was a masterpiece until people tore her apart. Despite that her heart was pure gold.  She poured herself out for other people. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for them.

The touch of her bare hands could turn the whole world around.  She was the girl who would cry herself to sleep every night and still act like nothing was wrong. She would hide so much pain that no one would even think of. She would herself be in a crisis and still help others. Her arms would be breaking but she’d still hold others up. She would always give that last piece to someone else. She made broken look beautiful. She taught others to dance in the rain. She would give you her wings and still be happy. She was sunshine living in the dark, but she never complained.  She was stupid and altruistic; but she needed to be preserved because that’s something rare to find. She was the most beautifully complicated thing. She was irony personified. But she got lost- somewhere in translation, vanished into the void: “the girl who always smiled.”