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...