
The darkest times,
Long for light,
And so breaks open,
The seed of hope,
And sprouts from it,
A light so powerful,
Witnessing finally-
“That golden moment.”
perspective : desire : light
The darkest times,
Long for light,
And so breaks open,
The seed of hope,
And sprouts from it,
A light so powerful,
Witnessing finally-
“That golden moment.”
perspective : desire : light
When nature paints-
Orange and black 🧡🖤
Sunsets like these are beyond romanticism.
They are a reminder that life is beautiful in every hue.
This darkness makes the inner light shine brighter.
A light that might have went unnoticed in daylight gets recognition in the dark.
Neve fear the dark.
Never run away from it.
Face it with courage.
And see how yourself glow like a firefly.
Orange : Black : Nature
Who doesn’t love sunrises? Who doesn’t love remembering the same in dreams? Dreams have a power that can transcend the limitations of logic and knowledge. This sunrise from a low mountain range in sub-urban Mumbai took a special form. The poetry and the picture below explains this.
The Lines
A churning ball of fire,
Rising flames of unquenched desire,
From the abyss of dark reality,
Creating rings of concurrent plurality,
Approaching my dormant emotions,
Infusing a vigor in these latent notions,
Making my core shine,
With the light of the divine,
A call of existence,
To wake up from resistance,
And embrace this friction,
To overcome any restriction,
That hinders this soul,
To live its purpose, its goal.
SUN: FIRE: ENERGY
Have you ever observed the magic of a butterfly and how the flowers bloom with it’s touch? Let’s experience it through poetry.
The Lines
These soft lemony flowers, bright and fresh,
This shaded green foliage, a beautiful mesh,
Attracts this petite aviator of the low skies,
To share tainted secrets and misconstrued lies,
To reveal how humans oft distort reality,
As an attribute of their mortal frailty.
As I look in awe,
At these cohorts exhibiting acts of sorcery,
In a language beyond human glossary.
I wonder,
Nature has its own way of expression,
A language beyond human comprehension,
Which leaves a spray of an illusionary impression,
On the minds clogged by filthy grains of aggression.
I ponder a little and realize,
Nature calls us in ways innumerable,
To unfold what’s hidden, in ways unimaginable.
But we remain deaf to this song of existence,
Which flows unhindered without any resistance,
And we turn a blind eye to this divinity’s dance,
Missing this very golden chance,
Of experiencing a zesty trance,
And relishing this magnificent happenstance.
I smile in joy,
At this resplendence of knowing,
The consequence of sowing,
The seeds of curiousity,
Which burst into enormity,
Erasing the darkness of ignorance,
With it’s revelatory illuminance.
The butterfly makes the flower,
Bloom and shine like an earthy star,
And the flower makes the butterfly glimmer,
Like a sprinkled florid shimmer.
Their proximity is a stay so brief,
But the emotions linger on a belief,
That a beautiful blend it is,
Like an everlasting bliss,
Of an unconditional love,
So profound and deep,
Reminding one,
That distance is left,
With only feelings to keep,
As a token of that conjunction,
Where memories form the foundation,
And faith, the pillars of affirmation,
To make this residual life, a marvelous
construction.
BUTTERFLY: FLOWER: NATURE
Life is beautiful every single moment. It is us who make it look ugly with our cloudy thoughts of grief, guilt, and self-deprecation. The light exists always; it is just concealed by the darkness of our moribundity. Let’s reclaim this beauty through a poem.
The Lines
How trapped am I?
I occasionally poked myself,
Whenever I turned into,
A grumpy gloomy cloud,
Staining the sunny radiance,
Of the yore.
Then,
I washed those stains,
By bursting aloud,
Pouring out all that trapped me.
But,
It never happened,
with ease,
And I,
With weary, frantic eyes,
Looked for another cloud,
Which could cause another thunder,
Where we share our saddened vibrations.
But,
This turned into an ordeal,
A vicious cycle,
That increased the pain,
Caused by the heaviness of other clouds.
That’s what addiction is,
It smothers you for a while,
Gives a moment of ecstasy,
And, then,
Tortures you in every breath.
So,
I decided,
To release the burden,
All by myself,
With a sense of freedom,
Breaking all inhibitions,
All notions of fear and self-doubt,
And let the sun shine again,
In its full glory,
Outgrowing the years of yore,
To the pinnacle of senility.
That’s how life is,
Beautiful when stained,
And,
Even more beautiful,
When cleansed.
LIFE: PAIN: BEAUTY
Have you ever wondered how nature creates different patterns every moment with different concentrations of light and darkness. It’s a masterpiece in itself, to see such beautiful shapes of shadows. Below is an intricate and proportionate pattern made by two trees in my garden, just like a weaved piece of cloth.
The Lines
The nature weaves
Sometimes we wear brightness,
Mostly we discard it,
Sometimes we cover darkness,
Hesitatingly we flaunt it.
Sometimes we need both,
Sometimes we feed none.
But life is an amalgamation,
Of these very dualities,
Though n different proportions,
Displaying to you varied realities.
If you choose a shade,
And make other hues fade,
Patterns you will get,
All unique and complex,
Making your discretion- an entangled net.
These wavy twigs and colorful leaves,
Make beautiful silhouettes on sand,
Like intricately finished hand loom weaves,
Here cloth is replaced by a piece of land.
What a wonderful artist nature is,
That uses light as a filature, isn’t it a bliss?
NATURE: ARTIST: WEAVES