The Changed Tables

Diminishing Hope

I let myself suffer,

With intentions that were never pure.

Standing at the piedmont of growth,

I felt my feet frozen, unable to move anywhere.

My eyes scanned both the ways,

Walking onto which, my survival would be declared.

Afraid of the extremes,

I chose to never try, I turned away with shun ears.

Lacking the courage to fight for my life,

I stood freezing gradually, I faced my fears.

Melting by the newly found energy,

I became essential, drops of water to be shared.

Known to the fact of being fatal,

I returned from my illusions unreal.

In the diminishing hope of reality,

My pain defined me,

The master of my endless prayers.

~ark

With a glint in her eyes, hungry to be heard and loved, looked around herself, she was all alone, all by herself.

She had no major problems in her life nor did she want all eyes on her. It was a search for a pair of eyes, deep as an ocean, for she could drown in them and vanish.

With stories unwritten, she remained responsible, priorities remained unhinged. But it was there in her mind somewhere, to weave a beautiful story once, from her memories and not from her imagination.

They'll Too

The situation I had been in, Was the situation they were in. I wanted to warn them, As I already knew the end, But I decided against it. As I was the one who ignored the warnings too, And I knew they'll too. Thinking, The way I realised, They'll realise too. The way I learned, They'll learn too.

~ark

Belonging

I let people go while I hold onto things. People drift apart, flowing rivers and I remain a shore, holding onto their fragments. The letters they wrote, the illustrations, the conversations, I preserve them, becoming soil, fertile and fruitful.

I hold onto memories, capturing the person I know would change eventually. Who finds the same person twice even in the same person anyway?

So, thereby, my efforts are never focused on caging the flowing river rather, take a part of it and make it a part of mine. 

Be it good or bad, I absorb everything to nurture my being, to experience bliss and pain, to experience fertility, to experience solitude when called barren.

The rivers become a medium of change sometimes, I flow through them, my silt deposited where it didn’t belong but still absorbs in it, becoming a part of something different yet I remain different. 

I wonder whether my identity of being silt was just an imagination. Being a human, I must be a river, ever flowing, irrigating fields of livelihood, ever changing, giving and taking yet never keeping.

But that’s where the difference came. I too give and take but after making it mine. 

I possess; hence, I belong. I belong; hence, I remain trapped.

I write when I'm sad cause I'm pretty busy when I'm happy.

Shine

I chased the new light, While wandering in the night. Dreams of shining bright remained in my mind, While I wanted to live my own life. Not that shining wasn't a part of it, But the bed of satisfaction, Lay beneath me. I fought with time, A weak opponent, I thought. Life's best lesson taught, Refusing to be stuck in a moment, I rose, I chose war.

~ark

I am but drained, even without doing much, downright exhausted, struggling to find reasons, motivation or such, to survive.

- DG

The Footsteps

The footsteps across the path she crossed, were the inspiration of the nightmares in which she was lost. Those footsteps made the path uneven; they were embedded in it after all.

Every time, she wanted to take a different road, full of adventures abode, she tripped on the footprints, that trapped her there, the moment she felt aware. The other one would be bad or even worse, she thought while she was handcuffed by the curse of her memories.

The footsteps she was scarred by, Belonged to the person who once made her fly, But she never knew, she took her first flight in a trapped sky.

She revisited the days she was a sunflower, who followed her star, her sun with all her power. She was now a prisoner, unknown of the jailer, after all the road became her world now.

The girl who was trapped by a jailer in a jail, Now thought her home was that person who protected from the unknown, Little did she knew; she was being hidden behind a cruel veil.

She asked herself one day, how did the footsteps leave such a deep impact on her fate?

She then remembered, the person crossed the path when it was young, when the cement was wet. The footsteps were embedded when the cement was naïve, it was isolated when they met.

The footsteps sculpted her entire life now, which made her imprison herself in the prison constructed by her hands, she was just a puppet now, strangled by the death strands.

~ark

Her Loss

In the room full of familiar faces, She lay her head low, Trying to erase the memories, Which adulterated her soul. Everything she ever wanted, Never became her own. Covered in the cold snow, She shivered to see a ray of hope. The monotony once sowed, Sprouted in a plant, It was the only thing she could call her home. Frozen in the unknown frost, She tried to be known, in spite of being lost.

Banality grew like an old moss Covered by the shade of her loss Her life became a coin of toss She was now settled in her mind’s chaos.

"People empty me. I have to get away to refill."

– Charles Bukowski