March 1, 2009 § 17 Comments
A breath of thought,
And a world bloomed.
In it all was as it should be,
Beauty and sweet to see.
Yet a thought corrupted the mind
And then started the works of a fiend,
The earlier world now grew weeds,
After all there is never peace.
And now as the weeds without the plants
Rot , as no food was there for thought,
The dreamer did realize,that what seed
he does bury,will determine what he does reap.
And now was not too late,
So determined to write his fate,
He opened his mind to the sky,to the sun,
And let the water run
To the good plants
And when few did pop,he plucked the weeds.
P.S:- My first exam in on Tuesday.
November 22, 2008 § 11 Comments
October 8, 2008 § 14 Comments
sat a single flower
-it lived only for a few hours.
Yet in those few hours,
it did live life,
until it was moved by force,
from that which gave it life.
And in its time of life,
atrocities were none,
ubiquitous were its brothers,
who among the myriad leaf,
sang ,till day,
all through the night,
as if they would never die.
And when they all were taken away,
from their lap of its life,
they did bare a scent,
one fresh and magnificent.
And till the scent spread,
they were honoured.
And then as that too left,
nothing of them was felt,
and to the soil they went,
to be buried-
they became carcass,
to fuel the tree,
on which they were born free.
Yet even if for a few hours,
nothing matters but self,
for individualism is not a mistake,
but for living’s sake.
And while the scent may go,
and their beauty may burn,
they held life,for flaunting,
and for that sake died,
but it was not a martyr death,
but one where,its value was felt.
Though by now,it is all long past,
it shows that life’s value is till it lasts,
and so in that,we need to live,
and try to see what is beyond the tree,
and the sense of detached belonging,
gives life a sense of being free,
for freedom is knowing,
what we are and not doing nothing.
Presence is to be felt,
and belief in self,
if the best wealth,
for all storms can do is break a petal
and all drought can do is kill.
Our scents may last forever,
or till dawn,
but life is such that our fawn
will help,even when we are gone-
for what we do is to build a tree,
one which we call humanity,
for that sake,let us do our duty,
that is to create and metamorphose,
and leave behind a stronger base.
August 5, 2008 § 11 Comments
June 6, 2008 § 10 Comments