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AN ACHE

Well, that ache in the center that apparently has no definite cause or maybe the reasons are too insignificant to be named the ultimate thing; there’s a root cause. It’s mere mind’s play, to decide, to let go and definitely to keep holding on…forever? Maybe, if it existed.
But that ache that is indifferent, an ache that feels new every-time, an ache that we’ve befriended like no other, an ache that is acknowledged and welcomed with smile driven tears, an ache that is nostalgic of moments that were mere memoirs of the bygone days, an ache that we never saw coming, an ache that was an escape once from the reality we never faced, an ache which has now become a necessity, an ache that is a part of you?

An ache,,, A beautiful one!
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A Story

The time thus stopped, still
Between then and the now,
Then was forever beautiful
Now is undulating but infernal.

Forever is hence a myth,
Tied between the bygone
And the moments yet to come
Stuck, unmoving and dead.

The rise of an era, indeed
Was not a beginning either,
It was called upon by turmoil
And the sacrifices of all.

Them all, gave up all they could
Left behind what they had,
They managed to flee, evacuate
But couldn't untie the chain.

The chain that was tied
So fast around their souls,
Choked, breathless, unmoved.
They cried, longed, lamented.

The emotions they were bound to
Took a toll on them once again,
The empire did rise again,
Them, all, remained the same!

The thing

Well, life is nothing but a catalogue of ideas that exists somewhere, waiting to get substantial! Take a form or maybe be loud enough for the world to hear; not as an echo but a whisper…
The thing about whispers,
Well, thy are heard yet unheard! Understood yet unknown language for many. Whispers, seldom become audible but the tunes are soothing, the feel of being unheard yet heard by somebody. More often than usual it is our own soul doing the role. But such introspection sessions are common, as common as an Unicorn on the road at the countryside maybe!
The thing about Unicorns, Well, they are magic. Magic sounds surreal but yes if you have the courage to believe in it; it won't disappoint you. Those 'serene' creatures are nothing but miracles. Wondrous souls that are created with the blink of an eye; with the movement of the wand I guess!

My sky in September

That small restless kiddo!
Overheard, shouted "Just nine"
Waited for the months to end
Till August things were fine.


It didn't bother him till eight,
September was his favorite...
The ninth month on calendar
Waited forever to savor it!


He was waiting, he is still...but
The wait became too long,
He waited, danced on one leg,
Sobbed, singing his favorite song!


The last date was the best,
He thought! Moulding the clay,
The form he made, of a face...
Much like a mask, it'd stay!


He painted few drops, with blue
A little real, a little messed up.
Blue being the fear, he trembled
Dropped the paint, it no more resembled!


What was in front, still blurred his eyes
He thought he'll manage the mistake,
He was sure he'll twist the story,
Mould it in his creative wake!


He took the brush, made it all blue,
Dropped the initial plan, thought,
"Blue is the new you!"
Still, with the heart he fought.


Heart wanted few little drops,
But what he got was more than his sha…

THAT STRANGE LOOK

Off to a midnight saunter Into woods not so green
I saw someone gazing strong
Afraid to find out and lean.
I stood there still and small
Choosing between stay and move
The gaze took control of me
Telling me things none could prove!
The Fear of unknown built up
Shadows growing strong and dark
I felt a shudder in my soul,,
The thought of bygone, left a mark.
Taking a step back, I thought
Would mean a peep into the past
Heading forward being the best move
This fear will then not last.
I ordered my brain to stop the game
Gave the power to the crimson beast
I knew it would be fair and right
Former always stole the feast.
Now I was out of the woods,
Woods that were never green.
I came and saw the mirror,
The gaze I feared was mein!

THAT INERTNESS

Innate feelings are irrational
Rising above nearly floating,
Just like, a poem lies inert
after being read, unmoving!

That inertness being an end
The ultimate destination
Lying just there, once loved
Its incarnation or cremation?

That feeling once they felt
Now its long gone, the past!
For they read it and forgot...
The words still there, my last!

Writing for me is my salvation
It shows me the truth unraveled...
I write and then I realize
 I AM ON THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED...