Osmosis

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Time has come, everyone’s going home, everyone’s packing bags while you’re in the midst of nowhere, tried to be everywhere but ended up nowhere.

From agony to euphoria, you’ve lived it all.

To flock away from your very self or to find who you were, you can’t land anywhere when it’s all fire and ice.

Maybe it was all worth it? Maybe it’s all for the bigger race but are you even trying? It’s been long that you’ve been a sleeping devil, well wrapped in your own cocoon, or is it even yours?

It’s been long playing Mr. Who I am to Mr. Who am I.

Been dead for good? To embrace the dark, to embrace thyself. All this while, getting the whole wouldn’t get you some. Period.

Maybe it’s how you’ve been embroidered to fit in, while all this time it was you getting influenced to be who you weren’t while it worked for you, for a while before succumbing into darkness.

More like someone who’s been caged to forget everything about the n number possibilities of what he was and what he can be.

Out of all the times you’ve stopped yourself from being authentic, the next time would count the most.

Mirage

Well, it has been a ride.
A ride that felt like win, a ride that mesmerised you enough to get lost.
There’s no darkness, there’s too much light, it seems like you can see everything clearly when all you can find is closed doors.

A gypsy lost in the desert in the daylight, each direction he sets his eyes upon, he finds an oasis, a win. But the oases turn out to be mere delusions.

The game has really got into his mind and the psyche he’s been following has become relentless to his seldom self.

The gypsy has never been this unsure about himself, so unclear that he’s reaching mirage of oases. As if all he’s getting lured is into dank submission, each mirage is a way of putting him down.

So down, that he believes that it’s really crazier than he imagined, and for the first time he’s feeling left out, as if the game is bigger than him.
No signs of thinking clearly, thus, to think clearly he needs to lay and follow the pursuit of the breeze, nature never lies but can he still trust his insticts?

Precisely it’s the fight between not bowing down to the mirages ’til he finds the oasis or just move towards slowing it down ’til he finds peace.

 

Outlawed

The opportunist world saw a civilised world, destroyed it. Call it their own damnation.
The story of outlaws is about the survivors who sought to survive against all odds while the capitalists deemed them to be illegal.

We’re thieves in a world that wants us no more

Out there was everyone, everything; Even, the souls were on sale.
Ironically the land built on blood is the land full of dreams.

Hunted down were the poor souls, poor tribes who lost their land, their emotions, their culture to this sadistic world.
A massacre, a riot long gone to condemn those who inflicted it.

If we’ve to fight, we’ll fight
If we’ve to run, we’ll run
If we must die, we’ll die but..
We’ll stay free

They named those fighters as outlaws while they were the bigger outlaws; it’s true no land can be reformed without unbarred cruelty.
Those fighters had families, tribes tried to survive the capitalist world with a socialist and the sharing mindset; they worked, they reared, they raised yet hunted down for their own land.

They are chasing us hard
Because we represent,
everything that they fear.

All they ever wanted was freedom, peace, and harmony.
But they were chased, made to surrender.

Running to the wild, hiding in the lows, the fear of prosecution is their story.
Surrendering to the system was their win and the loss.

Only dead fish go with the flow.

Tonight’s the night, he learns to swim in fire.
Maybe, the fire tempted him all this time but then why does the world impose him to water?
It’s a cold day but he doesn’t feel cold. He’s mighty as ever yet grey

He’s waiting on a helicopter waiting to skydive, he knows he’ll land up alright wherever he’ll land but he can’t get hold of the handle and slowly he’s drifting out without a plan.

Gay is everywhere; so is dismay!
Moving towards pure uncertainty when all the voices in your head scream differently.

Maybe he never wanted it to be like this. Maybe he wished it was more simple.
Maybe it’s worth it.

One day, he’s like touching the sky and on another night he’s back digging for something he can’t find.
What’s missing, is it you?
You’re the one he had been waiting for, it’s been long since he relied on. He needs peace, he needs rest.

Promise, you won’t slow him down; his biggest fear. 
A little too afraid to exaggerate of what he has become, a neat monster.

Everything’s a lie, sand’s getting accumulated.
Maybe it’s the dual lives, he’s unable to control.
Acting dumb is easy, destructive yet addictive.
Acting smart is tough, constructive yet hateful.

He surely doesn’t know what he’s made of, but he surely knows what he wants.
He’s right there, yet he doesn’t know which door to open.
He fears the destructive nature of a wrong door but nothing is ever destructive when you’re the creator yourself.

Maybe he’s eyeing for another escape, which’s dumb but easy.
Safe isn’t right.

Everyone has weakness and if you know that, the person’s yours.
Well, he’s got his weakness and tied it to himself.
He’s following all instincts but which one’s right.

He’s still underwater, drowned.
Although he has covered a long distance coming back from the dark trench, paving his way towards the light. 
Moments later, he’ll be on ground zero moreover he’s set to rise this time.
He knows there’s no coming back here, he’s set to touch the sky this time.
The last fall took a toll, he’s feeling the water pressure getting lightened with time

But the question is, can he hold it till ground zero?

The Grey World

To the world out there, there’s where the melancholy flows.
It might not be felt but it’s out there as serene as the white snow.

Hold on to some light, they said; was it really the light or the annihilation of self?

Light was never the light which it seemed it, it’s not even the fire furnace but what it seems like is hell. May be the darker it was, the stronger it made you or the light’s just another level of evolution.

How bad was your encounter with the dark? You almost made it back into the whole, almost went deeper into the hole to find what? Maybe, it doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s gone. The devils have outplayed you in their game.

Are you willing to take the risk- the darker the stronger because you craved light out there and now when you’re here; light’s not your cup of tea? The influx of the acidic world’s out here. What did you really dreamt of? You said that you’re gonna win it.

Where are you now? It’s not a good world, you gotta earn your place in it.

The dark has got it’s own keepers now, no more of you is needed while you were so close to acclaim yourself being close to it, it’s all gone. Pitch black, no more yours or maybe it’s worth the try or fight because you belong to it besides the white light world where you’re merely left with the bat’s rituals.

YOU ARE LEFT WITH NOTHING, BUT GREY IS WHERE YOU BELONG!

It was so close, you saw them running for the dark; and you already lost the race?
Defeated but undefeated, is it worth it? You weren’t supposed to be like this.

Action is worry’s worst enemy! Is holding on to your beliefs worth fighting for? Not in the short term but the long term probably. How do you intend to fulfil the short term, while your home’s not home anymore and the new place doesn’t have enough room to fit you in no matter how bad you try.

How badly do you crave for it? Or is this what you had craved for?
Who got targetted by this lesson taught to you, for you and by you?
Who knows whether it’s the end or the beginning. You have already started losing and lagging behind.

I sing this prayer to the old one.
To the lord of the hunt.
To wild, dancing, mischievous masculine.
To he who is born in the winter, and dies with the leaves.
To the soulguide and the pathfinder.
Cernunos.
Lead my arrow true.
Fill me with virility.
That I might stand strong and proud.
Travel far and sleep well.
Ride hard and sing aloud.
And drink deep all of that is set before me.

I will see you around or maybe hold on to you but I will find my way back to the path where you’ve been knocking.
There might be shallow shallow waters around you; start swimming and swim until the end so that, even the deep ocean won’t scare you.

MAYBE, THE GREY IS YOURS. IT’S NEVER AS BAD AS YOU THINK, EVEN IF IT IS THEN YOU DIDN’T KNOW. NOW WHAT? TRY AGAIN.

The Wanderer

He’s nowhere, he’s running, he’s walking, he’s jogging, he’s crying, he’s celebrating, he’s shouting.
What is he doing? Where is he?
When was the last time you felt as pointless as him?

He’s out; it’s a jungle, it’s fairytale or a nightmare. Where is it heading?
Each joy ends up gloomy. Each misery ends up upbeat.

Who to judge, how to judge. Are they his friends or foes? He’s losing but winning and winning but losing. Will he drown or swim it off? Is this peace or is this war?

A conjecture, it’ll be back. But is it supposed to be?
Is he strong or vulnerable? Or maybe both.
Maybe, the door’s closed but the window’s open.
Is the dilemma worth waiting or it’s really the time? Which side will it go, head or tails?

It’s the misery, he can’t solve. Where will he go when there’s a mirage everywhere?
It didn’t come, it’s needed. Maybe the flower dropped its last petal or maybe someone else plucked the flower, maybe it was never supposed to bloom. Was it all not worth it? Maybe he can’t go on without the flower? Or maybe he will.

Shall he water other flowers, are those flowers willing to bloom for him, shall he nurture the noteworthy or shall he stop sowing the flowers as of whole?

Maybe, the flowers are venomous. Maybe, beautiful isn’t for him.
Maybe, it’s the dark he’s meant for.

It’s his fight against the ruins, he’ll walk it off. It’s the end but is it worthy to proclaim it? He will rebuild, he will be back.
With or without flowers, it’s time!

Is it fate? Is it a punishment? Is it a surprise? Is it a prize?
Maybe it’s meant to be.

It’s time.

The scope of horoscope

​​Do you believe in horoscope/sun signs?

If yes, you’re an idiot.

Honestly, I laugh at all of you. It has always been pointless and you’re being fooled each and every time.

As we all are unique yet have some general qualities which are common with almost everyone like Funny, Secretive, Romantic, Caring etc. 

Everyone is Funny in a way;

Everyone is Romantic in a way;

Everyone is Secretive in a way;

Everyone is Caring in a way.
Another example:

Beautiful people belong to blah blah blah months.

– Like seriously?
Yet, you get fooled everytime and believe that you belong to ‘blah blah’ sign and get jelled with other characteristics of same sign.

Grow up, look out and realise everyone is different and beautiful in his/her own way.

Stop stereotyping/categorising yourself into something as narrow as your ‘blah blah’ signs.

Till I collapse

Just when the stars were busy glittering, buds were busy evolving and good times were rolling. 

About time, the latter had an intuition of a storm coming which was literally true to the core. He believed he was well prepared to fight like a mutineer and destroy anything which comes in his way. And then one day, the silent storm came along and took away everything he had and later, he realised, it was too late for anything. He lost all the hope felt as if the devil came down to feed himself his heart. He became powerless and was left to a scrutiny which was impossible to give away. 

Seconds passed, minutes passed, hours passed and days passed but the memory didn’t fade away. He missed his everything even more and was left with nothing but the haunting flashbacks of that day. May be a lot of time has passed but now he’s on his way to gain strength to start again as he met himself from within with a different perspective of him regrowing, rejuvenating. 

He met his weakness but came back stronger. Yes, he might still be in pain of that day but he’s rebuilding. He resurrected the long lost hope which is now his mere strength and he’s still there not surrendering but lost in his belief.

To be continued…

A Wolf’s howl.

To run with the wolf, was to run in the shadows, the dark ray of life, survival and instinct. A fierceness that was both proud and lonely just like renegade. It felt as a tearing, a howling, a hunger and thirst. And that dread made him realise;blessed are those who thrive for hunger and thirst. Apart that a strength got inked within which made him die fighting, kicking, screaming, that wouldn’t stop until the last breath had been wrung from his body. The will to take one’s place in the world. 

For him to say ‘I am here.’ To say ‘I am’