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I am trusting the magic

It's the test,
when you zero down to one of the multiple choices,
And, you choose strength;

It's a tribute to the nurturing power, the ability to inspire;
And honouring the undying quest,
The matchless art of finding beauty in everything ;

An applaud to the unflinching fortitude
That chooses to make mistakes and grow,
That never stagnates;

It's the faith in man's valour
And rising above crappy dull lives,       
Devoid of any lights;

It's a way of refusing visible garbage
And its rotten stink,
A rebel against muddy waters gushing from dark holes;

It's the trust in dreams and aspirations of hearts,
And its power to rise above triviality,
That make a man;

The soaring joyfulness,
The songs of waves,
The music of ruffling leaves,
And crooning of hearts,

It's a matter of choice.
Always the story of overcomers.
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Beyond limitations

My thoughts are roving around their conjectures and perceivings. They came rampant a short while ago and I am sipping their cautionary truth, their regrets, efforts and disappointments out of failed attempts to frighten another. Their malleable quests that fall into the arena of others which is not touched by them. The precarious state of their odyssey and forsaken courses. What is absent inside, you cannot find outside.

And I am back home again, serene, curling up on the couch lightly closing my eyes. Before letting the recent visit washed away, I lay my eyes upon it..

You cannot seek the answer of someone else's quest. You cannot be made wise by someone else's wisdom. You cannot be scared by someone else's fears. You cannot be fooled by another's foolery. You cannot become happy with someone else's happiness. A cunning conjecture or wordplay simply has no power over you. Nothing has power over you unless you make it yours. You cannot be limited by someone else'…


Those gloomy shadows 
Capable of darkening my days,
Nasty glare of evil eyes
Those horror-struck memories

Those smiles to take away smile of others,
The honour for disgracing another
And blessings that are to show off
Tears that conveniently bring relief

I see no right question to be answered
Or answers that hold a meaning.
There's no goal to be chased
And no path to be followed.

It's always better to walk away

I believed​ in love, compassion, and all those good things that bring growth, joy and peace.

The visible beauty of diversity that spreads across the planet splashed me with its fresher sparks.

I believed in the crooning of​ breeze of moonlit nights enough to lull bleeding hearts to sleep.

I bowed to poor desolate souls with fragile bodies that carried the weight of this planet -- I am the one.

But sometimes, the bliss of hurting someone takes over all other joys - to those who deserved to be hanged.

Then, abruptly the truth dawns on me that it will make no difference, will change none.

Which I find difficult to bear and it has always been better to walk away, in some or other way.


A flame that flickers

Fireflies are frisking in the dim darkness. There’s an earthen lamp with a flickering flame. Is it shrieking and sobbing? May be it’s just a wobbly whisper which finally settles down in quietude. Apparently, it is battling against the dark. In one way or the other, it has succeeded. And when it’s gone, the darkness will be defined as — the absence of light. The soul of this lamp is in everyone. This flame, the potentiality, and verve are always there. Then how is it that we don’t even flicker? We are awaiting someone to kindle the lamp. And that someone seems almost impossible to be reached. Because each is busy making a noise. We are perturbed by something which has nothing to do with us. The noise never really has anything to do with anyone. We are not a harbinger of hope. We never go to tell anyone that things will become better. We never come forward to put a smile on someone’s face. We break the broken and defeat the weak. We have to win. The triviality of triumph!

A hunch or conscience ?

Life has always been grooming you for what it had in its bag. An unhurt divination guides or rather takes you in its realms. The language only you sense, apprehend. Not in words thence refers to no thought and difficult to express in words. Impossible to understand without experience as it is a perpetual experience. Subtler than an emotion. And they let their minds drift along Siddhartha’s world. To some it’s an imagination of parallel worlds. There’s none. And an imagination is not the experience. It’s nothing like a hallucination. No face, no identity, not even human, living or non-living. Existential facts are essentially the matter of experience and not of ratiocination. Your surrender to it.. is not decided by you is another fact. In a way, it’s not a compulsive act either rather it yields up all forms of acts with utter ease. The authority has all controls. Where could you find a mightier, trustable, unfailing guidance and auspices!

Agreed. I am not too wealthy or modern to keep …

The process

Running my fingers along the shelf, while doodling through the dust, I quiver slightly as asudden I am awakened from torpor. It throbs somewhere in the middle as I feel it cracking. I take my faith pulverizing gradually. Puzzled for a while, I begin drowning. The awful stink of rot and blood suffocates. I surrender to the pain enduringly sinking to my innermost nub, forsaking all the torn up exterior. This place is alleviating and comforting. The soft core hardens while I find my nerve again. It flashes onto the dark. Relieved, pacific I apprehend.. it’s all justified. My faith is here intact. Preparing me. Lightly holding my hands. Leading me to the path which only I have the rightful claim. The path which is only mine. Making me what I am meant to be. The justice has been delivered. Not visible yet. My faith has found me. ~**~