Lost Hues.

The silhoutes and shapes were speaking to me from below. Each one whispering a different tale. I was straining to find my own tale hidden between those layers of stories. I was flying, soaring among clouds looking for my feathers hidden between those cotton wisps. I met my story all in pastels unlike those vibrant, sprkly fables I saw earlier. Where were my colours?

Desert (ed)

The sun-kissed sand witnessed the knights' never ending search. The thorns scarred his hands, the sun blazed his parched soul. Winds would whisper at night to stop his madness. He couldnt stop digging feverishly, not now , not today , when he could smell her smile beneath the sand. Today the mad knight would find his love he lost years ago in sandstorm, buried beneath the golden sand.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Rooftop rhasodies!!!!

                                       
The biggest misconception of our neo world is that we are living in this world,we are in sync with our surroundings......we are communicating with people.....when in reality all we do is share our thoughts with our ownself......the world is how we perceive it .....it transpires as we feel it....all we do is build our own understanding of the world.....and act accordingly create our own fears and live through them.....if only we start communicating with the world......if only we start saying whats on our mind....but we never do......
all we utter is what this world wants to hear.....
we forget that nothing is perfect in this world....perfection is our own customizable asset which we all have....which allows us to cruise thru the twisted tiffanies of life....even when we are irreparably messed up....people who lag behind are the extremists either they are too strong to bother about the worldly norms of success or too weak too be in the rat race......i read somewhere that even if you win in a rat race you are still a rat....
its  a tough calling amidst the waves of life to remind yourself on a daily basis that you are of a own kind and no one in this world will ever be what you already are and no one will ever know what you know....our differences are what defines us.....but we forget that fact....
Expectations!!!!!! other ingredient of life....but exactly like salt, too much and you spoil the beautiful quiche lorraine, too little and you keep craving for more.....its easy to have them but extremely difficult to fulfill them....every time we suffer some teeny tiny emotional trauma and the first thought that shoots from our gut through our nose to our puny minds is that we wont expect any thing from any one....forgetting that we are not wired for that kind of super human expression.......
If only we could attain that thoughtless state for even a nano second of our life.....its tough...

to be continued.....

Black rose

the original idea was lost somewhere between the heaven and the earth.....the wildness was being replaced by the sophisticated behaviour over time.....it was time for the black moon to dance in the grey sunlight...coz he knows no shadows will testify against his condescending love for the tragic procession of the purple stars...the rants were transitioning into requiems of the past....glares from the broken shards of glass were hurting his eyes......but squinting was not an option as almighty didnt  bless him with the power of vision....fragrance of sand was messing up with the procession .....he lashed at the nearest rose bush the only visible proof of life in the overwhelmingly vast stretch of land .....the veil of the thorns started bleeding .....was it his illusion or the thorns always bled like that..his fingernails were digging deep next to the bush....his life was buried beneath the piles of sand.......it has been ages will she be alive after all these years....the earthy smile was waiting for him....


adversity tears from us what we think is inseparable from us...noise was escalating behind her somewhere to unbearable decibels....."stop!!!" she shouted in her head....but the rose bush kept drilling her soul....and it was like she had been living here forever with her head buried in sand and everytime she screamed her lungs filled with golden sand.....

to be continued....

Unchained wings

its time to leave....to get away from insipid world .....to plunge in assemblage of thoughts that have been twisted tangled in silver strands of freedom.....to see the iridescent memories that flash whenever you squint in sun or moon...to detach yourself from all the people who are just wood painted flesh around you