The Choice

I've always been perplexed with myself. Never have I figured myself out or gotten figured out by anyone. This poem? I had written it a while ago, before concluding that 'There is pleasure, or even better, power in never being completely understood' (a line from one of my blogs). There were days, when I was younger when it would frustrate me, to live not knowing who I am living inside. It would disappoint me, that no one would know me enough to complete my sentences, to know what I m thinking or worse, even when expressed intricately how I think, I would be misinterpreted. ,Only now, after much introspection, have I begun taking comfort in an elusive me. It did take a lot to be as confident as I am now. I had been fighting against the current that carried me, I ve learnt to let go, let myself be taken with the flow, and bask in its subtlety.

The Choice conveys the dilemma I tried to figure in my head.

I’ve been dreaming about the skies,

Going violet with a mysterious stance,

I’ve been dreaming about the flowers

Becoming translucent with a doubting glance,

I’ve been dreaming about the waters,

Transcending into a salty cream,

I’ve been dreaming about the stars,

Cascading down from the celestial stream

I’ve been dreaming about the winds,

Personifying into beautiful beings

I’ve been dreaming about the rains,

Crystallizing into dewy paintings.

I am awakened with a sudden start,

From all that I’ve been dreaming about

I am awakened to a fresh morning,

To witness the world up and waking

I am awakened to an existence,

One that is made to believe disillusions,

I am awakened to a perception,

To laws irrational to intuition,

I am awakened from my destiny of dreams,

Far far away from the truth of realms.

I am awakened to make a crucifying choice,

To follow destiny or to reason with civilization

I opened my waiting eyes,

And the skies are still violet,

The flowers are still translucent,

The waters are a salty cream

And the stars cascade down the stream,

The winds are beautiful beings,

And the rains are crystals in paintings.

I chose.

But to walk, in the path of my destined dreams.

Resurrection

A poem this time. Got me wondering what made me write this.


Beyond the crestfallen stars,
Shimmering in scarlet, blood-dripping shattered glass,
In a treacherous dark night beholding the glow of jewel blue,
The blazing golden Sun, hidden away in the mist in a grey hue,
A brook forgotten amidst thickets of the forest's emerald green,
Aching and waiting for a resurrection, so serene....

Resurrection from the tear-bleeding world,
Resurrection from the bruises in the cold,
Resurrection from the never-ending surrender,
Resurrection from the ever-haunting massacre....

Introduction to a world parallel,
Basking in a turquoise sky cascading over hell,
The shining orange rays casting its spell,
Goddesses in a pure white expanse,
Giggling by the gurgling pond like a crystal pebble dance,
Blushing flowers blooming with an amethyst glance,
Aromatic with the mahogany fragrance,
Resurrection, with an ultimate stance...

Being nocturnal. Being me.

A fortnight had passed, when another man had me explore a pandora's box of paranormal emotions. He communicated with me in a language so abstract that no being could quite figure.  The language of lateral thought.  Where darkness is pleasurable, where the perception of an absent light is of serenity and absolute power. Where the laws of constructed thought is effectively defied. Where the nocturnal dwells, there I lived alone.I anticipated, for that night was nearing, when I would soon look into a pair of eyes that reflected the ethereal in mine.The knowledge I assumed from my anticipation was one of intimidation.Nevertheless, when he took those steps towards me, I must say he caught me pleasantly off guard. There I lay, all through the years of my unparallel living, anxious that when I m confronted by a man who shares the depth of my mind, I would no longer be indistinguishable, that I'd be left powerless in my world since it is no longer purely mine. I ve fantasized, not once but in a million fantasies that there would be one, who dared to unravel the complexity in each of my cells till my soul is denuded to him. But, ardent is my love for being the only one like me- misunderstood and incomprehensible by the regular being.There is pleasure in never being completely understood.There is power in being unpredictable. The intense passion for my solitude gave rise to the fear of being defined. Thus, the anxiety in being acquainted with yet another soul like mine.

He entered in the way I least expected- quick but rhythmic. His steps were effortless and poised, almost careful, to not frighten me away from letting him delve into me. So beautifully smooth, I had lost cognizance of my actions. But when I finally gained composure, I marvelled at how I felt. Nothing had been altered. I still felt indistinguishable. I still felt unique. He made sure of that. My degree of intelligence met its match. I was not intimidated. Realization dawned upon me, I had spent a life preparing to defend myself from a man like him, when he did arrive, there was no need for defence,for he embraced me, and his subtlety reassured that I would always be absolute.

Will be continued ! 

Eternally Mine

I had just ended a relationship with a man that lasted a beautiful three years. When we were with child like excitement looking forward to the beginning of a new year together, we had to crumble. 

I felt malicious. It didn't hurt when I told him it was over. What hurt was the fact that I knew that I just killed all the happiness his life had been kind to give him. He was the tender one. 

We had broken up a million times previously, I'd bounce back within a matter of a few hours. But this time was different. Almost parallel.

 It happened on a night when we were fighting over something menial, we always did ,we fought more than we spent time loving. An argument that would usually end with me in tears of desperation - not due to the fragile side that I kept veiled in me, but because of the side that is unfathomably furious with his inability to comprehend the simplest of words. That night, my anger did not turn into frustrated tears , instead I felt a wave of conviction that engulfed me ,the crest brought along with it the command that I have had enough. I never usually act out of an impulse, I didn't this time either - only that the process of thinking twice before leaping occurred at a blinding speed. I shut every possible gate of communication with him and the next thing I was conscious of was ,me making a promise on something I wouldn't dare breach. God. With that, I allowed the wave wash him,all that I felt for him, and the dreams I had for us, away like how the existence of a wave can never be proved after it has receded completely. I let him go.

It was painless, I had no regrets. I had myself convinced that I was just numb. A new found strength in me, stopped me from feeling anything that would make me wince. It was so easy. It felt calm from the deepest in me. What overwhelmed me was surprise. Surprised that I never once had the urge to go running back to him, surprised at how serene it felt when it should have shook me hard . I wondered how I never felt hollow inside , wondered how I was so content . Not a tear drop. Not a single one would roll down my cheek. I had answers, I thoroughly knew why I ended it, I never questioned my actions. I didn't feel the loss. I felt victorious instead. Content from having taken the right way out.

 It wasn't that I didn't love him anymore, I just wasn't in love perhaps. I still felt protective about him, I could never stop being maternally instinctive - an aspect which none who didn't belong in the world I had created , would have knowledge of. The difference lied in the way I would look at him again - it wouldn't be one of romantic love, I would be looking at the innocence of a child born to another, but is eternally mine.