The search for the inevitable truth is neverending. But what is this inevitable truth? How does one define it? And if the definition varies from person to person, then is it really the inevitable truth?
Sometimes what the eyes perceive and ears hear is incomplete truth and sometimes its blatant lie. Yet one firmly believes what one sees and listens. Our mind plays the major role in this judgement, and yet it fails to clear the mist around the Truth.
Truth is not defined by years it has lived, and neither is it defined by the number of its believers. Truth is like the river that flows, unperturbed by the ectal factors. It doesn't care how long and arduous it's journey is, how far away...
Your eyes reminds me of an ever sinking ocean of dreams
Your mouth twitching into a smile so dreamy
Your finely manicured teeth slyly peeping out at me
Your nose suspended as my heart feels right now
Your eyebrows stretching for lengths into fine contours
Your tiny wrinkles forming puddles of joy and sorrow
Your enormous ears where I want to speak all night long
Your stubble where I lose myself so often
Your neck where I can snuggle forever
Your arms where I left my soul to rot
Your crotch which united with my energy so divine
Your legs which reached me always on time
You. Your aura and my trauma.
It lives and decays. Ever like time.
Your eyes reminds me of a graveyard sometimes.
I have my best friends always there for me,
But why am I always lonely?
Everything seems so perfect,
Family great, work going well,
Then why am I so unhappy?
Something is missing, something is wrong,
What's so disturbing ?
Why so confused ?
दिवस जात आहेत तासांचा हात धरून वर्षही महिन्यांच्या मागोमाग.
जीवनाच्या या बदलत्या चित्रांना निरखत मी मात्र तशीच आहे "न बदलेली".
I was waiting for my drug from her,
Minute by minute passed;
But no reply from her...
The night passed,
And me too...!!
And if nobody knows them
We don't exist anymore
It feels like flying; this falling out
Finally free; maybe lost
A fling; a forest; a floor
And this fork will never get me again
And that I know quite well
Everyday she tried to stich her wounds with her tears knowing he doesn't like a wounded heart, hoping he'll find it as perfect as new, but then he came, who found flaws in the stitching again, tore open all her wounds and left, leaving the wounds open to be stitched all over again, alone.
Thankfully her tears were always beside her, who held her back to start the stitching with the perfect mix of blood and tears, hoping he'll like this one, and the circle continued till there were no tears to shed and no blood to flow!!
Kabhi gumte the in galiyon mein
Haath pakadkar chala karte the
Aaj tum kaha aur mein kaha
Lekin yeh rasta thehra raha
Masroof hone lage tum
Aur raah mein dekhti rahi
Dillagi ke iss daur mein
Woh galiyah bhi awaj deti gayi
Jaane anjane hi sahi mohabbat toh hui
Afsoos ek tarfa mohabbat adhoori hi reh gayi
- Akshaya Khot
Feeling of returning back to him scratches my wound and then the realisation that I can't be with him make it non recoverable. Why he did it to me it's been five year but still it pains that much only as it was first time when I realised his lies and my worth in his life.
I still take his name only when I am in immense pain because I haven't forgot him fully , it's only that I have buried memories related to him so deep in my heart and mind that it flashes back only when guards of my mind are off i mean when my unconcious mind is off duty and then my mind ,soul , and heart become inconsolable.
How long will you occupy my dreams
How long will you own everything that's mine
How long will this life has to be mine and memories yours, days mine and nights yours
Narration mine and story yours, how long will your habits stay as my addictions, how will I be yours even though you are not mine.
8 years apart
Every year, on this day in 2 minutes and 20 seconds the glass of our bedroom bay window shatters in pieces, some fall eight-floor below on the concrete and some inside. The smell of your perfume lingers then throughout the room. For years I thought its a sign. Now that I rest my body perpendicular to the window and look below at your translucid corpse, I see past, present and future much clear now,
I was wrong, its an invite. This time I am coming home.
Surrender to life. Allow life to lead you, don’t try to lead life. Don’t try to manipulate and control life, let life manipulate and control you. Let life possess you. You simply surrender! You simply say:... I am not. You give total power to life, and be with it. Difficult, because the ego says: Then what am I? Surrendered, I am no more.
But when the ego is not, in fact for the first time you are. For the first time you are not the finite, you are the infinite. For the first time you are not the body, the embodied, you are the unembodied, the vast, which goes on expanding; beginningless, endless.
But the ego does not know about it. The ego is afraid. It says: What are you doing, losing y...
There once lived a little birdie on the most bizzare branches of an anfar tree,
She sat on branches and would watch the sun go up and down like her father's wing.
She felt inspired so she flapped them too hard and too long.
She liked it but she liked her home better,
Little birdie decided she wouldn't fly,
Others birdies flew high around the sun.
But little birdie sat on her branch singing for people passing by,
Little birdie liked ogling moon at night instead of sleeping.
Big and old birds pried each morning "those wings, Can they fly?"
Little birdie didn't know but she had faith that they did.
But she was scared to break through the pleasure into a world of eagles and crows.
Amidst the wakful morning,
A dream after a millennium.
A game being played,
By Him and Me,
And He always told -
"If He wins, I'll become His. And if I win, He'll become mine".
The subconscious me not being aware of it,
went towards the winning.
Alas, I didn't know it was Him letting me win.
A strike of revelation hit me - a realization in a dream,
And I kept the game aside.
I guess He was happy,
But more happy would He be if I had let Him win.
Thus ended this bittersweet dream,
with my Beloved teaching me in His "mysterious ways".
Cry from my inner realm.
It was time.
The burden was humongous.
My heart was the bearer and my mind was the maker.
Tangled in this Maya,
of this materialistic world,
I was lost.
Thoughts upon thoughts,
Impressions upon impressions,
They just poured in.
Silent and subtle signals from the heart were sent,
to rescue my soul in trouble.
Nay, the mind never listened, never satisfied.
It was time.
The heart cried. Voice resounding across multiple realms.
The call took place.
And then, it happened -
Skylark Challenge 205
"Oh so quiet" you sigh,
But inside am drowning,
The voices of head and heart,
At odd with eachother,
Like the waves clashing,
Engulfing every bit of my being.
"Another bookworm" you remark,
But you don't realise,
The book am holding,
Is the cause of my inner turmoil,
And also the only path to my rescue,
For it showed me the mirror,
To all my hypocrisies,
How I've ingrained the very traits I dislike.
"Show me what you're reading..." you ask,
Yet I feel, your arms are reaching out for my life,
And like a drowning man holds onto a straw,
I clasped the book with all my strength,
Not wanting to part for even a second from it,
For only understanding it and...
I saw him for the first time in a havoc as it was a college trip, with lesser number of births confirmed. The person managing it wasn't able to do so, he took the tickets from him and started allocating seats, and I thought hmmm impressive, he seamed like a sailor in storm who might be able to sail us through too. On our way on the train new group was formed, I being a shy girl at first avoided speaking with boys unlike my other friends. A boy of our group was asking him to come in all the group activities going on, but unlike the rest of the boys, he denied and kept listening to music with his earphones on the adjacent compartment, he was visible from my birth, and I thought oohhk, maybe he...