purple_peiskos

Am I growing or surviving?

Am I even here?

The warm caress of my favourite blanket,

Shy Sun refusing to come out from

behind the clouds,

And sleep.

Endless, deep beautiful sleep.

Only this can save me now.

To find myself again,

I must rest.

Give myself over completely,

Till I am nothing but a thought,

Coursing the skies, and

Exploring the seas.

For I once again must remind

This earthy shell,

What it came from

And

What it came for.

My root and my purpose.

For in that span,

Bidding it's time

To burst, I wait.

This rage and despair

A dangerous potion.

They say it's the best fuel

That drives you straight from home.

I wish for it to boil

Than simmer.

To explode and destroy

Rather than pass.

My heart grieves.

Not for the fear of tomorrow

But for the love lost

And childhood forgotten.

After the storm

May we see a bit more clear.

May we hear the birdsong again.

May the Earth breathe.

And if it doesn't

I call it fate.

The definite aftermath.

Life begins from death,

This is a long shot. I know it as I pen it. But this has become a sanctuary of sorts for me, so if I am crying out into the void, so be it.

Few days before, someone messaged me asking me if I could scribble some poems for their drawings. And they send me one picture of a family going hand in hand by the sea.

The wind ruffling their hair, waves washing on to the shore.

The breeze caressing them, encouraging the kids to a skip in their steps, while taking their parents back to their childhood.

Sun, giving reluctant kisses to the sky before making his was back. Moon peeking from the beyond, not sure if it is her time yet.

A slight aroma diffuses into the scene, from the savoury snacks bar nearby.

The family with their entwined hands, holds itself as one, as sun crosses the threshold and night starts drawing her curtains. These four stands transfixed in time, for only one thing can cross even the loftiest of dimensions.

Love transcends all.

This was what I wanted to pen down. For I was feeling down that day, but this picture gave me hope. Gave me peace. A reassurance. For there is nothing in this world unconquerable, if there is love.

So I wanted it to be perfect when I penned it down as a poem. I rewrote it a dozen times and today when I checked, I lost the dm.

In my never-ending yearning, I lost my chance.

So this is my thanks to the void. Thank you for your picture. And thank you for reaching out that day. Your book, when finally published will give solace to many.

With no tears.

I scream without a voice.

I dance without a beat,

And beat without my hands.

My joints creak, my body ache

My mind, an abandoned clockwork tower.

Get up, do something

Or you'll waste away, they say.

As if there is something left.

If I could muster the strength

I would laugh,

atleast smirk.

Words scream altogether

Until it's all unintelligible.

Hundred words

meaning ten thousand things

In an orchestrated cacophony.

I wait for a thought, a word, a wish

To come out unscathed.

Even as I know

My waiting's in vain.

There is no hope for an

Unrepenting soul.

I will my shivering fingers to calm.

But they need blood, so do I .

The heart is ready to hunt,

The mind a sick ally.

A beast of the dark,

A prey, until, the predator.

Tell me how do I save myself

When all I want is to destroy?

You think your fire is pure

Maybe it is, I don't know.

I tell you time and again, what I know.

My fire is consuming,

Not to refine, but to purge.

When you set flame to this fire,

Ask yourself,

Can you control it?

Consider it my challenge and plea.

For there is still a portion

Of me left with goodwill.

One that forcefully procures a pen

When she wants to stab.

One who buries her fingers in her thighs

When she wishes to claw your smug grin off.

One who fill papers with tear stained ink

When she itches to create blood art.

Once again, I plead and pray,

Do not feed the beast

And hail the harbinger,

Some days are sad,

Others hard.

I look upto the skies and sigh,

When will this trial end?

Ones up high, so

Vast and mighty,

Keep their silence,

Observing my torment.

I scream and whine,

Complain and cry.

All stages of grief,

gives way to

Quiet acceptance.

In those rare moments I see,

Fragile threads of hope, shimmering,

Extending from my soul

To the vast beyond.

How could I have missed that?

No,

these too-delicate threads,

How can I see them?

My grief has a purpose

So has my anger.

My tears reflect, refract

the threads, causing them to shine.

Sorrow has a quiet beauty

And the omnipresent truth.

From what we are to who we are,

Melancholy nurtures our growth.

I thank thee, great Ones,

For my disheartened spirit.

For my soul will cling tighter,

To trust them is to believe

the water under your feet.

Ripples and waves,

changing from season to season.

Sickly, sweet smell of betrayal

The only constant in life.

I am bitter.

One would think

Knowing this transient nature,

I would mature.

No, I choose to be bitter.

To clench and gnaw,

To curse and cry.

Inhaling the poison, to

Brew some of my own.

Until it kills me and you

From within.

This is my cry and plea,

Save your part, still intact,

Hold it close and run away.

Protect it and cherish

Save it from perishing.

Fears are trampled upon

by my parents' prayers.

When my failures become victories

In my sister's voice.

When my worthlessness is

Vaporized in my

Friend's embrace.

Lord, you work in mysterious ways.

My eyes aren't

Colourful

Enough to see it,

Nor my cortex

Complex enough to conjure it.

But, i thank thee for

my doubting moments.

For in them I see

For when I think of you,

God knows I do often,

There is a soft weight on my chest

Not suffocating, not squeezing,

A familiar pressure

Like the familiar weight of your head

On my shoulder,

Like your hands around my waist,

A feeling of oneness.

Do all poets become insane,

as they walk the path of life

Preaching love and beauty