THE BURDEN OF FREEDOM

Funny how we

Suddenly grew up,

In a matter of somedays,

To feel the steel of

The double-edged sword of Freedom.

Funny how the time inverted,

And the colours,

We had so lovingly adorned one with,

Turned into a pool of Black.

It all seems a twisted game-

The one we played so willingly,

With our eyes closed.

Were we so wrong?

Were we really destined for

A dead end?

Frayed emotions

Underlie a weary mind.

Waiting for an ignition,

To spark back

To Life.

My dreams are not

With a broken heart.

Though, clearly,

I can’t say,

That I don’t feel

A lil

Relieved and cheated.

Used and misunderstood.

Crying is not for me.

I’ve left my tears far behind.

In a road,

That I consider no longer mine.

Let the sham recede now.

I can no longer

Be patient any more.

Let us both pay heed to

The duality of existence.

And not drift aimless

Any more.

THE VISION OUTSIDE

Hungry eyes,

Gape outside,

The balcony

To the panorama below.

Angry mind.

Wants to leap outside,

And be cooled by

By the rain dewed breeze.

The smell of the wet earth,

Rises up.

Its fragrance-

Enthralling.

Thrilling-in its freshness.

Heralding,

To the cycle of nature,

That always restores all balance.

The smell of the wet earth,

Whets my hunger.

Quenches my thirst.

As I think of

My time outside,

Soon as 6 pm

Would be clocked.

The weather outside,

Re- invigourates me,

With a new zeal.

The greens of the trees,

Go swish-swish, outside.

The parched roads,

Soon wet and wild.

Dirty footsteps on the blackened cement,

Quiver in anticipation of

Withering by.

No dirt no more.

A feel of the clean

Settles anew.

Minds are joyous again,

As the crows swoop down,

Their black feathers flashing,

In the darkening sky.

The clouds overhead,

Grey in worry,

As they Rush and Collide,

To burst forth fast

And save their bladder.

Humanity chants silently,

A prayer of gratitude.

And spread their hands

To welcome the showers.

Love blossoms afresh,

As the pairs

Look into the well-known eyes,

To catch glimpses of

A childish innocence-

Never witnessed.

Hands are held in warmth,

As the passion simmers

Under the surface.

Its bubbling sound,

Only heard by the one,

Who is the other half,

Of the inverted right.

Cars honk by still,

But their screech-

A melody now.

As their beat,

Throbs with the rush of Life.

Long hair swinging by,

The girls run,

Their footfalls,

A rhythmic pattern

On the cooling ground.

Some holding hands,

As they  fight the traffic.

Some calling out to each other,

Their voices ringing,

With  the vibrancy of the hour.

Buoyant  spirits all around.

Happy souls.

Happy feet.

Cool air.

A sigh of relief.

DIFFERENT STROKES

I have never regarded you,

As anything than my  Supreme.

The ultimate one-

Who rises up-

Above- against- all.

Your simplicity remains your charm-

Which the passage of so many years-

 With its good, bad or ugly,

Could ever harm.

Somewhere distant,

Your smile still calls out to me-

To reach out,

Beyond my threshold,

To hold you close,

As my only link to reality.

Truth begets truth.

The old adage holds true.

The weight of it-

Reflected in our every step.

But does it become a burden too?

Can we flee from all negativity-

To the sunshine harbor,

Of our undiscovered dreams?

Maybe pessimism mars our foresight.

Maybe we are too scared to see afar.

Instead pay heed to our caution.

Is it right?

Or just a blasphemy?

This treason of reason?

As we live in self-denial?

Never for once had we wavered before.

But look at us now-

Like children we dog each other’s footfalls.

We fight, scream, curse and fight.

But to what end?

For what goal?

Where is the love,

I wonder-

All that we had promised each other?

Will our nascent hopes,

Be negated to a still-born stage?

Will they never see the light of the day-

Locked so deeply in our minds?

While our heart seems to speak

Some other language,

We choose not to understand.

Why let ourselves be blamed by folly?

Why indeed,

Shall we be victims of

A Fool’s Paradise?

Self-created- yes.

But not unwanted too.

Is it time now,

To awaken to the strings,

Of a different beat.

Where the colours painted

In our minds,

Seem to be always,

A shade darker than what we seek.

Is it because of foolish pride,

That fails to enthuse us to peruse,

With an aim.

Why do we close our eyes,

To the obvious.

Yet intentionally,

Be oblivious,

To all

That we leave behind-

Every time we fight.

Insatiable-

Fuelled on-

By our different strokes.

ROUND AND ROUND IN CIRCLES

We both always

Talk in circles.

A round-about way,

To round things up,

Our way.

We circle the issue,

Like predators,

Hunting for a catch.

A loophole,

To break down the composure.

We be alert,

To the slightest defect,

In speech, thoughts or actions,

That we mete out,

At each other.

Neither, truly playing,

From the heart.

Yet going through the motions

Of it all,

To let things

Roll on,

And fall in place.

Sarcasm drips freely,

In whatever we say-

Do or make do with.

We allow ourselves,

To feel the restraint.

To curb the freedom,

That we so naturally feel.

We do take a lot

For granted.

Yet, the cautious in us,

Makes us seek

Reassurance,

Every now and then.

A knowledge,

To let the mind be free,

The heart at peace.

So that the we can be

Always, what we choose to

Believe that we

Should be.