To all the victims of 9/11. RIP.
Let me burn
Like the fire
Within the water flame
Let me burn
I desire never to be extinguished.
Let me be free
Like the soul
Within the merciless
Let me be free
I desire never to be guilt trodden.
Let me see
Like the glass
Within the opaqueness
Let me see
I desire never to stumble over.
Let me rise
Like the sun
Within the clouds
Let me rise
I desire never to shadow the shine.
Let me be me
Like Him
Within the fakeness
Let me be me
I desire never to vanish here.
Because happiness is so random! Much like this post.
And because everything starts and ends in this one word.
We love to be happy, or want to be loved to be happy
We work to be happy, or draw salaries that would make us happy
Play games to be happy, or make the adrenaline rush through our veins to be happy
The high score in games or the high marks in tests or the high zeroes in our paychecks
High number of floors in our office or the high respect we want to earn
We want a thing, or we work for it because that would make us happy
Love is a way to achieve happiness, or happiness itself
And so is success and respect, principles we adorn and abide by
Because standing up makes us happy, striving through failures make us happy
Traveling makes us happy, knowing people too
Flukes make us happy, time to read a book makes us happy
So if there is one word in the world which is the ultimate goal
It is happiness and the chance to it.
I hopped onto the train,
For a new journey, for a new ray
Leaving all behind with a trail,
For I knew, I’d return to it someday.
The moving trees, the passing roads,
Transported me into fluctuating modes
Years behind flashing all around,
And for hours, in my thoughts I drowned.
Immersed in my early life, the forgone times
Some cherish-able laughter, and some innocent “crimes”
Some achievements and the many failures
The strive, the struggle to overcome the regular barriers.
Engrossed in the past when I was a child
Or the times when I played in the wild
Not thinking, not controlling, just listening to the heart
Flowing with the wind, and chasing the carts.
And as the train moved forward,
My soul breaking into spherules
I desired to be back,
Alas, it was the will that ruled.
I knew my destination was ahead,
I knew I had to move on
For a new life, a new experience,
Towards that new dawn.
It’s tough, I fidgeted, I swayed
But I always knew it was going to be this way
Only I was oblivious to the fact, the test
That “there are miles to go before I rest”.
Time will pass as it always had,
I will be happy, I will be sad
I will learn, I will grow,
I will emerge stronger, that’s all I know.
Life is about changing, Life is about experiencing
Sometimes it’s best to let go
Take on a new step, a new flight
Feel the true meaning of life.
I still have the trail, for I know I will return
But not before I make my nest and
Accomplish the desires that burn.
PS- Credits to Shubham P for bearing my incessant grumblings. And coming up with a good title. 🙂
In the moments of sitting alone
In an effort to get a little known
There comes an instant
A moment,
Of utter darkness, of sheer quietness
A moment of self-introspection
When all that matters is ‘you’
When all you want is ‘you’.
People come, people go
Memories are made, goodbyes are said
In the end it is just ‘you’
Deny it, lest deep down you know it’s true.
Lone wanderer, or in a swarm
When its takes a conscious attempt to stay calm
Light, darkness, love, hatred seem far
Then you know all the world’s a mirage.
Fears, doubts, confusion surround
The world seemingly turns upside down
No reason, no logic matches the conclusion
Just the partial incompleteness that hovers about.
For in the end it doesn’t even matter, you see
You were alone and forever shall be.
Around the tall buildings of this busy city,
Where each is submerged in the whirlpool of responsibilities,
Where none has a second to stand and stare,
No time to take a walk, or be amazed by the nature there,
Somewhere near the fountain in the park,
I saw an orphan gazing into the lifeless dark,
Wondering, what slips through the minds of most of us here,
Wondering, whether he would find a family that cares for this lad dear,
Lost in the thoughts he quietly sits,
Oblivious to the cold that so tightly grips,
Somewhere, he ponders, perhaps someday,
He would be welcomed into a family where he would peacefully lay,
He hopes for a home where love is all around,
Where mocks and talks of laughter are the only sounds,
A place and time when he would have a mother,
And that he’d be fighting for the space in room with his brother,
A place where his father will shower him with wishes,
And he shall help his sister clean up the dinner dishes,
A place when Sundays will be looked forward to,
For Sundays are about family get-togethers under the sky blue,
A place where Monday mornings and clatters of school
Will be ,for him, the future-building tools,
And a tear drops from his eyes,
As he is brought back to the world of lies,
The dream, this wish, this hope,
Seems so distant, so far, so grope,
Yet he has no complaints,
For he believes in miracles all the same,
Some fortunate another day,
He shall be loved, and will pave his own way.
Someday, under the midnight moon,
I will find my solace.
Someday, under the shining stars,
I will dissolve into space.
Someday, under the perpetual dark,
I will see my ray.
Someday, under the applauding sky,
I will quietly pray.
Someday, under the lofty mountains,
I will part with the pain.
Someday, under the lifeless sea,
I will discover the rain.
Someday, under the shady tree,
I will learn to grow.
Someday, under the roaring thunder,
I will take it slow.
Someday, under the overhead sun,
I will stand tall.
Someday, under the chirping birds,
I will hear the call.
Someday, under the flowing sands,
I will let go the remorse.
Someday, under the soothing gales,
I will follow my own course.
Someday, under the drowning depths,
I will witness the rise.
Someday, under the endless times,
I will believe in tries.
Someday, under the midnight moon,
I will find my solace.
Someday, under the shining stars,
I will dissolve into space.
Only someday…
Sonali Jain - Memoirs of the Mystified 