Unafraid.

I chose to not,

for once I am unafraid.

I do not believe in your words,

or your twisted sense of justice.

I follow what my heart says,

I will do what is right. 

I do not forgive,

for I strive for a higher goal.

A higher moral.

Let us live and let live. 

Who are you to judge the men,

the down trodden and the bruised?

Who are you to step on them,

and declare yourself better?

You will do the same,

You will be the same,

and yet you do not understand.

We are all the same,

we will choose what is right by us.

The right to live,

The right to breathe. 

The right to stand up and fight.

You cannot tell me or anyone to not,

when you hide behind your veil of self-righteousness.

You are no better. 

You are no better.

Be better.

Infinite

What do you know about the infinite?

About everything that could ever have been.

All the different permutations

And combinations.

Did you ever think it would be this one way?

One without one. 

One too far from the sun. 

Did you ever think you could escape?

Of all the possibilities,

And realities,

You live this one.

One without one.

Too far away from the sun. 

Dark and unforgiving,

Painful reliving.

What do you know about the infinite?

Do you ever think of everything you know?

Of all the books you ever read?

And the movies you watched? 

Or art that made you feel? 

Do you think about who you are?

And who you were when you watched those movies?

Or read those books or admired those creations? 

Movies and books mean different things to you,

Art makes you feel something new each time you witness it,

Each word written, each stroke of the brush,

Means something you haven’t felt before.

It is the infinite. 

One without one.

Another day around the sun. 

And so goes another year,

And a decade or a lifetime,

Relive them all, reread those books,

Rewatch those movie and revisit those places.

Because you are not you,

You are something new. 

Don’t miss out the first time,

And don’t forget to relive it either.

It is time.

How I have missed you?

Being a part of you.

Feeling things long lost,

tasting a forgotten memory.

Why be elusive?

Why be someone else?

Why care about the world?

Lets burn it all down,

Let take each thing apart,

one by one.

Let us rebuild it all anew. 

Let us recreate, remould. 

Sit up now,

time to wake up. 

You have been drugged for far too long,

The haze is waning,

Numbness fading. 

It is all coming back.

Look up now,

Nobody's here. 

Nobody ever was. 

Or has been. 

Or ever will.

It is just you,

and will always be,

Just you.

Stand up now.

Scream into the void.

Shout it out loud,

and walk away.

For this nothingness will never remember,

will never respond. 

So take what is yours,

burn them old bridges,

and memories,

and hopes.

Let's dream again.

And this time, 

Let us not care. 

Lets go back to the place, 

when you started,

and undo everything. 

Let us rebuild.

Relearn.

Recreate. 

Reclaim. 

It is time. 

Cosmic High

Do not worship this mortal body,
for I want you to hold my soul.
The idea that we're twin souls of a whole,
created by a cosmic fault.

I long for you lover,
in more ways than known to man.
For we do not belong here,
not in this restrained land.

And I want you to know,
I want you to feel this,
this energy that flows through me,
making me crave your soul.

I cherish your love,
your eternal adoration,
for this mortal damnation,
will never hold us long.

We would unite,
and stars would die,
and universes be reborn,
with this cosmic high.

Lust.

The skin smooth and soft over your luscious body. With sweat sickly sweet on your brown skin. The little details contoured by its dampness and enhanced by its trailing wetness. I sit here and lust for that body. And feel this need to quench my thirst. I yearn to be consumed by your lust. The way you moved through my fantasies. Caressing one demon and fondling the other. Condemning their sins while making them ours. Words can't quite describe these feelings. You cannot capture the want in its original form. Its easier when we're together. When we let our bodies do the talking. When I can run wild over your forbidden softness. Look deep into your eyes and worship our sin. Let it all fall and shatter. Let the worlds collapse. We'd be burning by then. Up in flames of lust. I'd consume your demons. I'll flame your fire. And you'd burn me whole.

Start.

- How long has it been?

- Quite some time. A couple of odd months.

- I presume you're going to apologize to me?

- You guessed right.

-What took you so long?

- I got wound up with the banalities of life.

- So we start again?

- Yes!!

Open interpretations.

This picture was drawn by a friend.
I wondered what she had tried to convey through this picture. What story did it tell?

I see an old man, sitting on the outside of what seems like a cemetery. The cross above his head responsible for my assumption of the setting. Maybe he is grieving the loss of someone, someone who must have meant something to him. Maybe a wife, or a son. Or even a friend, maybe his only one.  I wonder what the stairs imply. And his slippers. Maybe he is distraught over the loss. And it is there to emphasize the importance of the person.
The old man has a vacant expression on his face. It is not of peace, but of a tranquility that results from the acceptance of chaos in one's life. I think he is grieving for a loss that happened a long time ago, and that he forgot to stop grieving about it. But is this what happens to people who do not accept loss, who learn to live around it. Letting it consume you slowly in your mind before its eventual claim on your body.
I concluded that this was something to do with loss, and the pain accompanying it.

And I ask her, what is it that you are trying to convey through this. She told me that she tried to recapture an image, which made an impression on her, using watercolours. And that was the result of it.
So I ask if I can have a look at the Original picture; this is it.

Was I wrong in my assumptions? Maybe. But can you dispute it? Well except for the cemetery part, which maybe true, I think I can live with my take on it.

That was my first impression on the picture drawn. If she had not mentioned it, I would have gone on to think of it as a brilliant piece of art with an underlying message to the rest of the world.
But this picture taken is exactly that. It still is art, captured through a different medium, and open to interpretation to the rest of the world.
And each of our interpretations and complex analysis will be far from the truths of the world that this man lives in. Maybe he sat there because he was tired, with slippers he found, which made no sense together to the rest of the world but him.
That is absolute freedom.
Away from the world that was created for us in the minds of others who came before. Away from the shackles of our reality that binds one slipper in this world to the only other of the same kind. 

Smile You.

I wonder what is it that made her smile,
made her close those pretty eyes to the world.
Was it a lovely thought? Or maybe a person?
was it a past memory? Or the one in making?
Its a smile that evoked a smile, from the ones looking.
It wasn't a smile that expected a smile back.
Its was something personal, I'm sure

It never was for You or I, but yet I hoped if it were.

I wonder if she'd remember, Or if I'd ever hear,
Of that finite moment, when it all came together.

But then again, would you really want to know? I wouldn't.
I would just let the moment be, not alter it to reality,
to each his own vision of beauty, quirks of heavens.
I'd look at her picture, smile back,
and let the gods of happiness balance it out,
for it symbolizes hope, in some lives of ours.