The courage to be empty

There is so much in life that lay hidden.
I peeked through the curtain,
Atlas stared –
Blank and full of despair
A despicable mess.
The grotesque truth pierced my heart.
I ran back into the dark alleyway.
Turning right I found a doorway,
I opened it,
Flooded through it the forces of another world
Begging my consciousness to awaken…asunder.
I run back into the alleyway,
Always wishing more
But lacking the courage to move forth.
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The bold choice

Amidst a wonderful space,
Lay a light.
Bright for its kind.
Thought the varied it was but a speck,
When it radiated
They assumed it was a glare.
Had it not been for its everlasting will
Hope and gratuity.
The world would have loomed without a bliss.

A Simple Truth

You try to put her into words,

You fabricate myths

Around her existence, goals, and motives;

One often tries to decode the unknown,

A vain attempt to ease one’s existence.

 

The caprices of a woman,

Are similar to Nature’s

For she is the personification of it.

The calmness of her mature perspective

Is similar to the soothing waters,

For she is the embodiment of it.

The Woman is a being not to be understood and analysed,

Though she is the essence of wisdom.

Like the emotions,

Human, feel the beauty of the creator;

 

For if you consider God, Masculine

Feminine is the Universe.

One cannot exist without the Other.

 

Ego Vs. Wisdom

The ego speaks through the knifed tongues,

Filed by the experiences of elation.

We assume we know the cosmos and its deterrents,

Have you embraced humility?

The knower speaks of a bibliophile

‘thou art a bookworm’

The bibliophile a humble soul ponders –

Educating the knower would end in chaotic eruptions

Of ego and superiority.

The humble gladly forfeit,

For it values peace of self and soul.

The knower goads its victory.

An unlearned script repeats.

O knower mine, thou shalt have to embrace

Knowledge.

O humble senile, thou shalt have to share it with thee.

The Infidel Guardian

Every time I walk

I turn to be sure,

Precaution is better than cure.

Every time I walk

I think of the wholesome lies you spewed,

I remember the manipulative support you endorsed.

I don’t believe others when they say the truth.

Paranoia has gripped my soul;

I’d rather wallow in pity

Than stand up to your fibs.

I feel cozy in the nook you placed my cage into:

I cry into the pillow, silently

Lest you hear my voice.

Your assumptions are vague

And dipped in misogynistic masochism.

I feel scared,

Unnerved,

You have trained me well.

I think twice every time I turn.

My back engraved with the chameleon’s tongue

I doubt myself now,

Am I sane to be here?