The Lost Path

Chaos.

My mind and heart are always in chaos. Their conflicts are my contemplations, their silence my dilemma. 

Their contradicting desires to fulfil a single temptation, their yearning to solve something unsolvable. And that’s what keeps me going. Thinking, understanding, then losing it and then reassuring. 

For the cycle to go on, they must stand at opposite ends so the boat doesn’t sink.

They must act parallel to walk together until my last breath.

But then, how will peace be achievable? For how long must this war go on? One must find content, one must feel fulfilled. 

We choose how we live. Life is a series of them, like every mountain followed by a valley. Pain followed by bliss, riot followed by peace. Read it backwards and the perspective differs. 

And at every turn, isn’t every choice, a war of wants?

Peace isn’t constant, a result of constant choices rather. Choice to stay silent and then speak, choice to find peace in war or war in peace.

Thereby, I choose to find solace in conflict. 

Between heart and mind

They must be against each other so that I can stand against the world.

Sculpted

I sculpted it With the desire To reshape something I could never fix To create something I could never become To make it distinct from me To let it live my every dream

But it wasn't the only one coming to life With it I was reliving I was being crafted in the process of crafting I was creating it to recreate me To give it life to live mine To feel complete

Displaying it one day, The audience seemed to be smitten with its beauty But it refused to believe them It refused to believe me It refused to love itself It refused to be Caressing it, I reduced it into pieces Only to realise, The molds I had used were once used on me, I had created nothing but me.

~ark

Colorful Fears

The colors fought,

Refusing to blend into each other.

They wanted to be different,

They had to be a unique color.

Accepting their death,

At least we would have a memorial.

But they realized, they were being thrown away,

Because the canvas had accepted itself,

It refused to be hidden behind the colorful fears.

~ark

The Unread Files

As I open the cupboard of my life,

A mountain of files crashed on me.

The number was infinite,

I tried to organise the unopened files.

Wiping the dust off them,

I started keeping them inside.

But as time ran out,

I shoved them recklessly in the night.

The cupboard remained closed,

Opened sometimes.

But the files unread,

Exposed the cowardness I tried to hide.

Now I wonder when I take my last breath,

Would I be able to gather the strength,

To read those unread files?

~ark

The Fall

And, as I watched the sun, Setting in the depths of the ocean, Sitting on the coast of darkness. I was relieved to witness, The rise of serenity. I laid on the sand, With a mind, finally free from the prison of thoughts. As the hours travelled like seconds, I soon realized that the peace wasn’t for long. Finding solace in the shed of despair, The sunrays will pierce my soul, again. The glare of the sun that followed me everywhere, With its fall, Will take everything with it, I will ever care for.

~ark

My Happy Ending

I know very well, That the end is near. But still, I believe that it's not the end of the world. I just keep sitting, fearing it, thinking about it, But I don't know why, I don't act for change, I don't change for the same.

I know that if I try, I may make it. But the fear of what if, Makes me stationary. Even after its monumental importance for me, I don't act, I don't change.

They say, everything has a happy ending, But what if I don't want it to end? Because if it doesn't, I wouldn't have to act, I wouldn't have to change. It appears so easy being stationary.

But it's not the same, As for the poison of fear, Is consuming me gradually. And that ending is the only way, I could get rid of it.

I don't know if it'll be a happy ending or not, But it'll end for sure, Even if I don't wanna act, Even if I don't wanna change, I have to act, I have to change. For my happy ending.

~ark

With a glint in her eyes, hungry to be heard and loved, looked around herself, she was all alone, all by herself.

She had no major problems in her life nor did she want all eyes on her. It was a search for a pair of eyes, deep as an ocean, for she could drown in them and vanish.

With stories unwritten, she remained responsible, priorities remained unhinged. But it was there in her mind somewhere, to weave a beautiful story once, from her memories and not from her imagination.

How do I teach myself?

Yes, I was late. But maybe, It was worth the wait. ~ark