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He?

As quoted by Sir Albert Einstein, “I am convinced that he does not play dice.”

The belief that the fortune and the destiny and the working of the time is all planned and written maybe what not? Whatever occurs or happens they blame him. The fact that they then once laughed his existence and now they question their own inevitable results of various deeds. The rational ones blame the consequences and the human tendency whereas rest cry over what they accept as is his decision.

Maybe sometimes it’s all nothing.

It’s as if no thing that all stress about exist.

There’s a big world of mine. Everyone has.

I can explode it so huge, with my cruel instincts or let it blossom as per what is my way.

It’s all the naughty actions of the obstinate universe out there, and we too play with it.

How time shapes itself is an amazing yet depressing fact to consider.

That time when the universe screams into your soul saying,

Do you know how and what I am?

How supreme and grand I am?

What are you compared to me?

And just how that world runs under the laws of science, you smile up and reply proudly,

“Dude I am you”.

 

Bits of paper

Found they are, torn-apart disgusted and unshaped.

The beam of hope as it loses its path-way.

Leaving behind trails of suspicion in the human mind.

As broken as the soul who knows about the pieces,

The waves of words that touched him and got his heart into two.

Questioning his own conscience, why did you?

It is hard to join the grand remains,

Only the loss of the loved one prevails.

In the air it chokes them, blocking their brains,

They wander and stop playing those dirty games.

He leaves the world distressed

Giving up his own blood that never really flowed.

Hoping to wander about in his own blue and black

His own abditory.

Fixing his worn-out fragile soul.

Just left is the feel and not the wound.

His paroxysm as it forces him to enter a unique world,

Universes away where he has his own word.

Open letter to self

Dear self,

I know the fact that your wild imagination can make you touch stars. You need those eyes in which you can sink and get drowned by the waves, they radiated in your mild soul. Your mild soul, on the other hand wants to breathe rough air. You want to jump from hilarious heights and float beneath the layers of air. You want to be alone, solve all the spellbinding theories and principles that have kept your brain restless, then and now.

You want to be the light in someone’s life but you are scared that your light cannot be left faded forever if the hands were improper. You want a companion who always figure out your lost tacenda and bring you back from your world that you always executed.

Just as you keep talking and start to weave your stories of fascination.

Fairytales, adventures of living in a forest, parallel universe,  your elemental love. Your ultimate tool for survival is Ignorance.

Remember, falling in love might be easy but always going with the flow and forever promises can be hard, that jumping from heights is simple but watch out if you land down safely, that sinking is natural but your way out is up to you, that getting lost in interpretations is usual but passing out of that labyrinth would be tricky, that even the light of life travels in a direct, particular path and does not stand still in a place ever.

The divine spherical world revolves and you should too, evolve.

Evolve and become your own story of fascination. Your life of breath is a tale itself.

Lastly note this that,

No matter if how the air around you is,

flourish, a flower when the winds are gay,

turn, a rock, when the air is low or full of fire.

– Lots of love

past.

No world

Stop all those unnecessary quarrels,

Go and watch the pink of spectrum that covers the blue before the superpower sun goes to sleep.

Ignore all those unwanted chaos,

Go near a river-bank and watch the birds as they fly forming a pattern that will surely soothe your eyes.

Say no to all the disastrous wars of life,

Go watch the ocean waves and the high tides that mourn and make you feel attracted in them rather than inhumanity.

Forget about the feelings of jealousy,

Go and search for the fact that the Sun, Earth and other divine Lords never fought for proving whose more superior.

Shake a goodbye to all the worries,

Go and sink in the dark black hole of your soul and dissolve all your mass that’s full of it.

If you stopped, ignored, refused, walked away, let go,

You are in the black hole, not of the Universe but your own soul. And there’s no world that can seem to be eating you up.

It’s you, Moments turning into Memories.

THE SPY SOUL THAT WILL BE MISSED.

Her abditory where she tells them she will hide,

Where like a bird she has her own sky, wide,

Stand as she is there watching as high mourns the tide.

In her home when she was in solitary,

So much quietness that she could hear every beam of sound.

Sounds that made her grow low about her howl.

Searching she is now for a fool for her,

That would do the same things as she does.

The spy with her pen, paper and book leaves her town.

With no trails of dropping emotions but only

They are in her mind only the intentions.

Still she is abused for her heart that is made of stone,

But she and the fool know that it is flower-made.

The fool companion only knows the spy’s tacenda,

Run as they away from melancholy of life to attain their agendas.

Sometime. Someday. Somewhere

She longs for pleasures of solitude.

She wants to walk through the path of fire and feel the bitter warmth.

She wants to sink in profound oceans where no creature can search.

She wants to rise high so that she can feel the slight layers of air rush through her shoulders.

She wants to climb up there and peep what world exists beyond the blue.

She wants to crawl up a tree not so high and watch the green grass from above and refresh her dead eyes.

Now that, she felt the burns and warmth of fire,

Now that, she felt the waves and beauty of the water,

Now that, she felt the pressure and thrills of the air,

Now that she felt the green and respect of the land,

She is still roaming aimlessly,

With her soul that now has a mix of fire.

With her feet in the wild of the water.

With her hair dancing in the air,

and yet again no destination in mind.

 

For those who wish to wander.

Dear wanderers,

For all those who are willing to or wish to wander, this is to ensure that you are not alone. I can very basically understand the idea of your way of breathing. That desperate urge of within to roam the world and never stop, bags always packed so that any minute you can jump over or walk in aimlessly where you wish to. You wish to close your eyes and sink in the melody of the music that’s playing in your headphone and you try to feel the flow of the air through your cheeks and arms spread like a bird. And the waves of words that can be seen everyday in your scrap describing every sight that you encountered and such a sight that touched your fierce yet delicate soul. You always moved apart.

Apart from the way your loved ones are living. Apart now that you are, you want to experience pain and pleasure. Pain, that nothing in your life can be forever and pleasure that there’s nothing more good than being alone and clueless about the next minute or even know if you still have moments.

And then that you erase off all the trails of your sorrows, you want to feel nothing.

It is like your body is no more bound under any ever-growing force and that all the mass of your body running down in no air. Those are only the moments that you feel no weight, no thoughts, just free and that’s when you experience a kind of pleasure that you never did and life on Earth feels to be successful

The theory of wandering is very much profound and few live by it’s principles and the ones who dare, are much lucky for their own self as they never tried to hand over their lives in someone else’s.

So lastly, I would end up saying that do not fear anyone, this passage of breath and time is yours, it is always going to be up to you how you evolve yourself. The choice is in your little palms whether your soul blossoms like a flower bud or you leave it to turn into a rock.

                                                                                                                                    -a wanderer.

HER WORD AND THE WORLD

Welcomed, she was with nosy spirits and high held-up hands,

Her warmth as it reminded them of apricity.

With her wise words and the vice world, she was raised,

Her blissful joy was in her world that was based.

The soulful rhythm of letters that always reached her bold ears,

Her soul that refreshed its own self to serenity.

The air around her is turquoise.

Yet at times, black is the world

And she, like that only white space in the black.

Though her sphere of individuality within was wide,

The world around changed its tides,

It’s very disturbing storms carved her on-going flow;

Flow of breath and the flow of her glow.

The black shadows found her hard to make feel low,

Ever that she rised all they ever said was wow.

Never Disclosed

The colors bright and dull, screamed,

The conscience out of his brain beamed.

On the side, his ears, heavy as they felt,

Irony of the universe with which he dealt.

Secret, never disclosed, were his paintings

Secret, never disclosed, was himself he,

Never disclosed, he experienced the circle, we,

In solitary, flying with his colors a bee.

Humming the melody of his own work.

Never disclosed, the ever-flowing melody

That the fact, never disclosed, he never bow.

After that he now dead, the air was low,

Now disclosed, the people and the world were like wow.

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