He left his Home.

He left his home,

to gather light

to feed his soul

to construe his mind

to gather stories

to gather scars

to gather light

straight from the stars.

 

He left his home

for a new emprise

to nourish gain

to steer plight

to see come alive

what he had read as a child

the oceans, the mountains

the chaste and the vice.

 

To see what it made of him

to duck the mold,

to embrace the whim-

of creating the less created

of trying the less tried.

He left his home

to become worldly-wise.

 

The mirror now reflected

a thoughtful visage.

devoid of vanity,

pragmatism disparaged.

A face with eyes

that held what it saw

and saw as it was

no notions prefixed

no conclusions suffixed

 

A face with lips

that curved when it could

that kissed when it could

for love is rare

and did bliss ever lasted so long

that it would succumb every battle

one ever fought for.

Lips that weighed

what they say

for they had seen some

and didn’t like their ways.

 

Face with ears

that had grown more patient

Sometimes that wished

they had heard a bit harder

with not so much agitation

Maybe then,

just then,

some paths

may have differed.

 

A face that knew

you give before you take

A face that knew

that struggles only change.

So he ventured a little farther

for he had already left his home

a little farther wouldn’t hurt

a little farther

he might as well roam.

Despite all that has been

seen, said and heard

he feared nothing

but to be the one in a herd.

***

but to be the one in a herd.

The Search

At some point in time, we all tend to be lost in this strange labyrinth of life, not just because it is uncertain, challenging and demanding but because just sometimes one stumbles upon a realization that there is a void and nothing ever seems to fill it.

 

Sometimes in to the nights so dark,
sometimes into my thoughts so deep
I look for you with all my heart
up till where my eyes can see.

I look for happiness
I look for peace
I look for something
that shall mean something to me.

I tried for clothes
I tried for books
I tried for drugs
still my hunt didn’t cease.

I don’t know what’s written for me
I wonder if ever anything is written for anybody
I wonder if life is just a journey
Or a bubble, a dream-so momentary.

Not always are my paths so right
At times I walk without the light
At times into the forests so dark
I keep wandering till the last.

So my heart sings me a song
tells me these thoughts are a Pandora’s box
tells me to listen to what It says
but like a wild feather, the heart sways and sways.

A travesty, a game, a drama or desire
Questions, confusions, a truth so satire
A deck of cards or a house of one
many conjectures to this world.

still I look for it
up till where my eyes can see
into the nights so dark,
and my thoughts so deep.

 

(Originally written in 2011.)

What were you?

We all have been unsure at some point about how we feel about someone. So here is a love poem that tries to capture the various shades of perplexity one’s heart goes through.

Background: There are a few things that remain unspoken of usually because the adult heart, which has experienced enough suffering does not want to plunge in too soon.  The adult heart chooses to be secure and sure. Most people choose not to express their feelings of affection for the same reason,  not just because they fear rejection but because they do not trust their heart and the games it plays. 

In her conversation with Cooper, Dr. Brand in the movie Interstellar has explained this sensation of feeling affectionate towards somebody quite optimally. She says: ‘it means something we can’t…yet understand. Maybe it’s some evidence, some artifact of a higher dimension that we can’t consciously perceive. I’m drawn across the universe to someone I haven’t seen in a decade… Who I know is probably dead. Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space’.

The following poem that was penned down in the summer of 2012 in a college classroom, gazing outside the window into nothingness, tries to articulate what remained to be largely unsaid but not un-felt during that time.    Continue reading “What were you?”