Undone.
Incomplete.
Something missing.
We think we are pieces of a puzzle,
You and I.
Faith.
Hope.
The last of our expectations.
immersed in the notion of something
that will fulfill us.
We are so intrigued with this idea
of someone
Completing us.
Healing us.
Filling us.
Sometimes I wonder…
Maybe we were born whole,
not nuts and bolts.
not a jigsaw puzzle.
nothing missing.
All things that begin
must come
to an inevitable end.
A cry of distress,
in an unfamiliar world
and hence begins life.
Some live for a 100 years
without being alive
for even
a second of it.
We are our own undoing.
Blessing or tragedy?
Stop and smell the roses,
they say.
Maybe I should
become that rose
and carry that beauty
within me.
I wish to forge
my own path.
Untethered, free and wild.
Liberated from this worldly cage,
and when Death finally finds me
may it find me alive.
The other day, I came across an African proverb : “When death comes to find you, may it find you alive.”
We spend a lot of our lives being held back by trying to become what we think others expect us to be. We let ourselves be trapped in a cage.
Our soul knows what it wants. At this very moment, it’s speaking to you. Listen. Then go do it, grab it, live it.
Something went wrong with my WP a few days ago, and this got posted before I was done editing it. I removed it as soon as it happened, but a few of you had already read it and left comments. I’m sorry I had to delete that post because it just wasn’t ready. This is the final and improved version!
Ever so often we find ourselves looking for people, places, memories and opportunities that make our hearts ache. But in a good way.
Some find happiness in running after that feeling, chasing it in bars and discos. Jumping off cliffs only to have a trace of its grandeur. Intoxicated by its scent in foreign skies and seas.
Some find solace in the hope that it will come to them. That all they must do, is believe in its power, its possibility, and trust it with all their heart, and the wait will be worth it.
That feeling is what makes the World go round.
Earth, our home, found it in its path around the Sun.
Sun, our star, found it in its luminosity and illumination.
Water, our sustenance, found it wrapped in the bonds between hydrogen and oxygen.
Wind, our cosmos, found it in the chirp of every bird that beautifies it.
Fire, our energy, found it in the oxygen that strengthens it.
Sometimes, it comes in our early years. Others spend ages feeling incomplete.
Sometimes, it comes right when you need it. Others learn that it has the worst timing ever.
Sometimes, it comes when you’re ready to hold on. Others are caught completely off guard.
I made a wish for that feeling, then placed it in my soul.
I promise to welcome its immensity and its enormity the next time we bump paths.
Images from Google Images
1. She veiled herself, unable to accept the flaws. The world, patiently awaited her exit from hiding, ready for her light.
2. Their reluctant hands met. Sparks flew, warmth coarsed and love grew in the silence. Hiding behind smiles, they embraced it.
This is in response to Twenty Word Tuesday (TWT) held by Bulbul’s Bubble. This week’s prompt was : Hiding (https://wp.me/pbcaAs-xo)
I took two different angles at this. Let me know what you think!
The “what ifs,” the “could have beens”
cloud my thoughts and actions.
Forevermore.
They’d come back, I was told
to haunt me.
Regrets.
I go back in time
I choose differently this time.
Another chance.
I live in the past
The present drifts away.
Another mistake.
Now I am thinking
about “what was but will never again be”
Torment.
To have something
only to lose it.
Tragic.
My heart’s greatest desire
Became ghosts in the shadows.
Irony.
what hurts more
“what ifs” or “what weres”
Another question.
The past is a deadly place to live in
I wish I could tell my younger self.
A warning.
Lessons I learn, consequences I face
Forward, I hope I move.
Forevermore.
Around him, she’d learned to dance to the rustle of leaves. He had taught her to wash away every sorrow in the first rainfall of every monsoon.
He had taught her to sing, to the cackling flames. And from him, she’d learned to comfort the howling winds.
Then one night, the celestial light had beckoned him, But she had nowhere to go. The celestial light had showed him the way, but she had lost her path.
The flames had consumed him, But they had burned a part of her too. He was everywhere, But she was nowhere to be found.
Shamelessly, she held onto that sliver of hope. The odds, ludicrously against her. Yet she stood her ground, grasping on to it. Maybe that was her strength.
Her combat had just ended, blood trickled down her skin. Clothes clung to her body, and a thousand scars adorned her form.
Yet she chose to believe, that humanity, the very one that had killed her lover and forced her to battle unknown anonymous heroes at the border was capable of warmth.
Anticipating that the end of the war would mean an end to all sufferings, she returned home, giddy with joy, only to find rubble and debris where her home was.
Dejected and in anguish, she made her way towards the young boy in the middle of the wreckage and as the toddler wrapped his little body around her leg, shrieking with joy, she knew that her sliver of hope had survived.
Whimsical Wordsmith 