Category: Poem
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Walking in solitude, and not on an esplanade, one understands depth. Preserved within the backwoods of his own self, there lies a belief that keeps him going, Neither glory, nor misery, Could undermine a belief that comes with a certain freedom. Sometimes, deprived of this, he survives. Floating in the midst of an uncanny habitat,…
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As masters of our own destiny, Often, a certain penchant creeps in me, to be inclined to, And be a lesser god. Where does it take me? And what does it teach me? I don’t understand. It’s in these times, I presume, being a deity is easier. As masters of our own destiny, I realize,…
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A new dawn begins, With the Promise of a new being, For the spectre of the yesterday is lost. Does this mean an assurance? I say not by prejudice. Because this is a new dawn And we are not dreaming, not a mere promise. Because, it is a feeling. Nature beckons us Take the stride…
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Where am I going? Above the clouds that gleam, by the sun That warms the earth and not the heavens above Where am I going? Flying parallel to the birds of the evening Doing this, am I seeking salvage? From this feeling of vivacity, juxtaposed with our human realities Where am I going? to reconcile…
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Never say, you cannot reach your destination Remembrance of which, is a tribute to your Zenith. Sometimes, nature plays a trick It churns the mind, and brings forth the binary world Of which, you are deemed to choose Fantasy as it may show, you may believe this is my world A new world, with the…
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In motion lies our lives, through happiness and sorrow, We are, but, mere expressions traversing on an escalator, That leads us up to what is called, a destination. On the top lies a stair of bright glow, reminding hope; Amidst the other stairs of darkness and strife, This stair on which the sun ray illuminates,…
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To be a lark, and not a delusory instinct to be awake; Reminds me of the fortitude, of the morning seeker. He yearns, but for a day full of gratitude and not to be a forlorn, Transparent that he is with the day, as the day pass by, Milking the might of the sunshine, as…
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A wayward branch; stark and repulsive, A matter of contempt, left alone to wither away. Can it withstand the whipping of nature? But it does with poise, Because within the hollow, it homes a tiny sapling, A sight for all to see. In a manner so eloquent and grandeur; in an otherwise abutting neighbourhood, That…
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