I urge ye to hoist up a banner
Not in any thoroughfare, street or city,
But once in the encephalon, twice in the heart
This the gashed and maimed verse of humanity.
Prismatic beings we all are
A scrupule conscience we house, a privilege, a right
But oh why witness the horrific manifestation
Blandly dancing in the helpless sight?
Tepid tears buddy the terra firma
A dusty dialogue driven by gravity,
But 'tis the seamless flow of blood that gushes more
An escalation of sheer barbarity.
A slender body bestowed with a gargantuan duty
To one day lead the world to immense wonders,
But 'tis the absence of humanity that prevails
That contrives the sickening attack which incessantly thunders.
It's overwhelmingly astounding how people ostracize someone from the chambers of their own heart in order to redirect and make the projectile of attraction and attachment spurt to a different direction. Can irony be defined in a way, the intensive organ of domiciliation of love and care has become an unwanted accomodation of perpetual and unrelenting perplexity. Complexity knows no novel paths and seems like it'll make peace here with no intentions to leave. Unless, we humans choose otherwise.
The ultimate goal in life is to turn into a story. Either be a storyteller telling stories to the world for the rest of your life *till your demise* or become one and be told to the rest of the world *after your demise*. You're going to die one day. Choose wisely.
One can truly master the self and become a virtuous, reverential and complacent human being not by questioning others going "How right are they" but by questioning the self and asking "How wrong am I". This makes one realise the negativity sprawling inside the intellect as well as the soul and, eventually, figure out to what extent should reparations and redemption be initiated.
Find peace within, try bringing a wave of change and the world will be a peaceful place to reside in. Find war and the world will show you how the road to perdition is just where you're subliminally walking on.
• The only way to find yourself is by getting lost within the self. •
Let this New Year usher in a tide of well being, an aroma of hope, an alignment of prosperity and an unimaginable torrent of success for all of you and your family.
Let 2018 bestow enough might upon every one of you to be blithe in the tensed hour and very well ward off evil powers and malign intentions against you and your family and guide you all meticulously through precarious situations and state of affairs.
Wishing all lettrs companions a very *Happy New Year*. (Whether you're celebrating now, or are ahead of time, doesn't matter, love you all. Be safe and celebrate responsibly.)
"My love for you is lackadaisical to initiate, hard to percieve and tumultuous to be extant. It's... Difficult." She said.
" Doesn't matter darling, the easy ones never made their way to fabled poetic verses and grand epics though." He replied.
A sovereign comrade parting, with tears on eyes and love in the heart.
2017! The year that galloped faster than the others and made me experience much than the rest. There was witnessed a melange of happenings and a farrago of emotions. Ranging from precariously conjured but vivified thoughts to tumultuous and gloomy bits, 2017 proved itself to being a superhero for me with a mask on the vestige, of course, and a wondrous cape that helped me fly past my plights and predicaments by making me sit down and ponder over facts which were considered inconspicuous at first. 2017 made me understand that there live numerous traumatic events which subjugate the human capabilities and conditions but the...
Are you coming home this Christmas? (A homecoming worth the wait.)
To those residing far away from their homes, so graceful and comely, they won't throw an afterthought to this aforementioned question. They have incessantly waited for this time to banish themselves from the scornful and sometimes despised environment, well-balanced scales being irrefutably thrown out of equilibrium thanks to twitchy workplaces, lowly promising academia or the resentful community peculiar to the conscience.
But no.... There's a catch.
This question is verily veiled by a smoke of self-contemplation. 'Home' here has been served as a locution posing as a beguiler. One simply doesn't ...
'The Girl Under Those Streetlights'
Let me tell you about her,
The one I had met under those streetlights,
A perfect ballerina she was,
Dancing to the ballet of life.
In the thick of night she swayed,
Gleaming ostentatiously in that moolit night,
As I stood there, transfixed gaze, she was a prize,
I couldn't let her vanish from my sight.
Oh that girl under those streetlights.
Bright disposition, sweet soft moments,
Nothing was hard, nothing unconquerable,
I noticed that silhouette, a gold-plated veneer,
She appeared, she smiled.
I was shook, shot by here aestheticism,
Yes shot! It was polar, not in any way which could have hurt me,
But in a way, which was stellar.
She went on ...
The lofty head of the pen was liften. The book gleamed with joy.
"Another welcomed jiffy for an exalted connection." It exclaimed.
The pen nonchalantly drifted away, as if a tumultuous conclave has been set up between the two...
...and graced her presence on the surface of another rusty script.
The book was grief-stricken.
"I have been replaced."
"And how do you love?
By peering into the other
Through the acceptance of one another
Banishing all the shudder
Time isn't an adversary for us to bother."
For the epic dichotomy impervious to ageless torment and captivity, love is the most opulent yet a classically rudimentary form of self-discovery, cathartic deepness and serendipitous happenings, sometimes accompanied with ill and gullible exposure to fear, anger and uncertainty. But...
*These ailments are sure to pass, for love was never unrefined, never so crass.*
"Obscure it is, the end is nigh
So, Live and love, for the days you breath,
Till the day you die."
"Who am I to you?" She asked
With stiff innocence in the gleaming midnight,
"You are that exuberant scene from a luxuriant movie
Which I'd never wish to lose a sight."
"Who am I to you?" Echoed the parlance
Liberalized feelings with a tinge of perplexed subjugation,
"You're the one I'd still love to live for
Even if this starry night loses its illumination."
"Who am I to you?" Words dripped
As she tried to explore my encephalon without any ties,
"You are the one who ornament me with the truth,
If times seem bleak, I'd still be with you in a labyrinth of lies."
"Who am I to you?" An enthralling question emerged
It seems without you there prevails an inexplicable climate of torment
"For me y...
There is a twinkle in her eye through which he gets lost in the cosmos of pious existence and reverential complacency. He seems to relate each and every facets of life through this blissful portal. There remain shards of appalling thoughts too; dread due to inconsistency, horror due to mishaps and outrage because of the dissipation of reciprocal understanding sometimes. But he knows that majority of palatable emotions are here to stay, to be relished together, and eventually, be liberalized in a completely outlandish way possible. He is patient with her, as the way she is with him. He can feel a climate of mutual openness being ushered, but oh my, can she?
"Oh how he wished he could revel an overflowing cup of encomium for her majesty,
Only to realize he was sauntering down a ghost town as a bard, composing a tale of travesty."
At times, when life unforeseenly spews situations requiring considerate amount of tenacity and arduousness, out from its bag of mere uncertainty;
Losers cry *"Why me?"* .... whereas,
Winners roar *"Try me!"*
This shapes an individual. This fosters the *one*. Picking up sides determines fate.
Either you choose to vanquish what lies ahead with sheer valiance or be left out in the race.
You have to pick. *One side.* There's no escape.
Want to understand people, cultivate *empathy*. Want to be understood by others, cultivate *generosity*. These help coalesce varied inter-subjective mindsets into a bridge poised towards concocting an ideal notion of well-being over a subtle brook of candid relationships.
When the time is perfect, aim towards making mellifluous amendments rather than pernicious retaliations. No matter how wrong or slipshod the other one is, or how right and immaculate you are. This helps the relationship strengthen by making souls overt, so that one can really reach out to the other, peer deep inside and embrace long awaited feelings, thus making the unknown, known.
Into the woods he entered
A portal to bliss, ego asunder
Sat by the brook reached out to the soil and asked,
"Is speaking to self a conceived corruption,
Then ornament my ears with ways to surrender."
Rocks did look, trees did shook,
They felt the wrath of his silence,
That embellished his lips, yet a blemish
A shameless war between mind and heart,
Oh what a ruthless violence.
He speaks so high, treads so swift
In a labyrinth of pale illumination,
He looks at the river, and he asks,
"Am i failing to honor, a lambent creation?"
Mimicking the shards of glass, the river displays the mortal's unwavering soma,
He beseeched the sun to gleam,
So hard, that he doesn't trap a glimpse of his,
This post is intended as a prolific brainstorm casted as a reminder towards devising bliss in one's life. Creating your own game. Conceiving your own rules. And playing by those. Realizing that to create serendipity is to work proactively on bliss.
Choosing the best thing which will aid you surmount in life and feel extravagant. Creating and following your own bliss conjures up a course of transcendental thoughts and feelings. But, alas, the sense of bliss is a doctrine to some in the contemporary. A failed adoption of mechanism that has lacerated humans from the roots of selfhood and ego. Incognito under the blanket of doubts and fear. With constant repercussive thoughts assimilati...
You can't escape captivity, NELSON MANDELA couldn't.
You can't elude sadness, JIM CARREY couldn't.
You can't conceal yourself from criticism, MARK ZUCKERBERG couldn't.
You can't circumvent discrimination, GANDHI couldn't.
You can't flee from hate, EMINEM couldn't.
You can't abscond ridicule, ALBERT EINSTEIN couldn't.
You can't shun deformities, HELEN KELLER couldn't.
But they could. And how?
The sublime answer, when dug deep, pops up to be one stupendous yet peculiar word, TRUST. Yes, these great pioneers had trust all the way. In the work they did. In the paths they chose. In their own selves.
Truth is, as we grow in age, the world seems outrageously brutish. And due to this shady veneer...
To forge a unique legacy is to inscribe a definite amount of tenacity and diligence. It is about transfixing focus on the game of life while amalgamating purpose with conscience. There must prevail an insatiable desire and willingness to learn something fresh each novel day while implementing those bits no matter how flimsy or tiny they might seem. Practicality isn't about working on one single idea and failing, but working on a trial-and-error basis, tweaking each and every mismatched facet and improving them for something better while adjusting the sails of ingenuity. And the reason for doing this? You are going to die one day, you've got to do something about it. Foster yourself ...
Stuff happen fast. Not all conditions are regulatory. Times are changing. It's better not to regret. Regretting about what you couldn't be. What you couldn't say. What you couldn't achieve. Living in the past is deplorable. It produces a feeling that you are not unique enough. And this solo feeling has a diabolic effect on what you can possibly become. What you can possibly achieve. How you can possibly set up your own fortune. Hit the iron when it's hot. Never mind the point of view of others. Regrets are neither affable nor lucrative to the conscience. Start now. Let this moment be the inception.
Life leaves us baffled sometimes. And in this contemporary age splurging with diabolic interpretations and unwavering reasons for self-doubt, every other criticism is pervasive. We incessantly seek for redemption, only to give way to revenge with a dash of haste descisions. We can't change what we need to face. Having an inclination to change everything is tomfoolery.
What we can actually do is create profound choices. Assimilating choices, at first, might seem obtuse. But what isn't noticed is the fact that this process is quite progressive. Choices are defined initially by us, but in the end, it is the assemblage of each and every single choice that defines us.
Choose to rummage...
'There goes the Queen'
"Stars, oh stars are you shining for me?"
She wondered as she sat at the portico of uncertainty,
So profound and poignant, "Are you speaking to me?"
Beneath the pale sky, as it enveloped her sovereignty.
"I have done much, far from what lighthouses can see,
Done much as outstretched as the sun beams can be"
Birds lamented, leaves froze as the wind of hope seemed dormant
"I can, I will, it's just a matter of time, you see?"
She managed to snuggle in her own world,
So whimsical, so striking she could possibly respite,
"I've witnessed the tenebrosity, the gloom, the inexplicable boon,
But I stand here unfettered, the nightmares will be long gone, so soon."
So she arose...
He treads swiftly on the path of uncertainty
Masquerading as a nonchalant being,
Lost in nothingness and wild bemusement
Yet he manages to smile.
Days never cease, they go on and on
Guaranteeing mellisonant reverberation,
Oh how he wishes he could sway a bit
But stops, only to realise,
The dancer has become the dance.
His countenance resembles an outstretched desert
As tepid drops glide past so noticeable
Will there be daylight he wonders
'cause the shade smothers him,
He pretends as nothing shakes him off his ground
Audacious he stands.
And through the lawn of negativity he strolls
Extricating positive vibes, that embellish the garden as flambo...
'Waiting for the right time' is a myth. You've got enough time under your lair, which may be found in tandem with your willingness. Deep within. Now is the perfect time, the present. 'Cause the past has slipped and future is uncertain. This is the time to wish, ponder, plan and execute. Procrastination has amassed over time and this assemblage is deplorable. Each second counts. Stop throwing insipid excuses and accept everything that comes by. If they seem good, transform them into something better. If they seem worse, congregate motivation out of them. Outplay your expectations. Wring the best out of what time has to offer. Stay focused. Stay fresh. Stay true to yourself.
The sun is beaming at this day's strength
Can feel tunes being played, so mellifluous,
And this isn't just about anything
As this marks a day of you.
Heaven has fabricated an angel for earth
Proud with boisterous jubilation,
Like a pearl embellished in aesthetic waters
Assuring none to have varnished a speck of dust,
On a felicitous creation.
The way you have bestowed inspiration on the mortals
Like fierce snow capped at a mountain's zenith,
Elegant in a way, one couldn't ask for more.
Your definition is divergent.
And how can my placid flesh forget
Such peaceful memories as a master you've taught me,
True to their nature, nearly perfect and didactic,
Engraving an indelible impression life...
Not melancholic for the moments that seem fleeting,
Instead quite grateful for that they happened.
And yet I stand here, clueless.
Should I hold on, or let go.
"From Dawn till Dusk"
A perfect dawn
'twas, for he could feel the gleaming lights
Rising in accord deep within,
Striking every extremity in the imaginative labyrinth
Inducing aesthetic tapestry.
Oh how he flew through the sublime
Moments of ecstasy, but now he stands betrayed by time,
How can they regard heaven to be an open door?
When doors can be shut down and sealed, with melancholy, intertwined.
And by now he has been shackled by manacles
Of this very diabolic dusk,
He savors the aroma of hope in the air
To let go is to bestow freedom on others.
Excuses are for those who want to lose small, whereas commitments are bestowed upon those who wish to win big. It’s been a high time for us to ‘leave’ the past and ‘live’ the present. Let us focus on making small things big and weak things, stronger. Let’s just accept failure and criticism as the pre-requisites of greatness, as they are sure to come no matter what our destination of success is. Let us be a solution to every problem and accept hardships as an opportunity to grow in our own ways. Rejection and ignorance has been prevailing around us as a stratum which must be dragged down to the roots and be lacerated.