Filling The Voids

Inside the dark canopies, Where your mind is playing, Mischievous leagues. Take a break, Give it a shot; How good it feels, Not to plan and plot. Remove the veil of negativity; The world is not bad, If you see through it. Pulling down the mountaineers, Is no fun; All would be sobbing, At the bottom of the rung. For once, Try climbing with them; Applauding their feats, And drawing inspiration as well. Every one has their own rope, That leads them to heaven or hell. Why focus on cutting others' ropes, When you can use yours to move ahead. For once, Try holding them, When they stumble; The look of 'thanks' in their eyes, Would keep you going for miles; So easily you reached the top, You won't even realize.

It was lying dead on the road; Crushed and crumpled, All worn and torn. Was it chosen and plucked, Only after a while, to be thrown? It was a saga of love and untiring devotion; To be plucked to spread joy and warmth; To be stripped off to decorate homes; To be a part of the bouquet to send good wishes, For happiness, health and forever well-being. Nothing less, but the best it was; Personification of "love", Was no one else's task; And that was the reason, For the terrible fate it saw. I picked up the remains of, Whatever was left; The fragrance now, Being forced to dirt and dust. I passed by a plant, No more than a thin trunk; Once the flowery abode, Was now nude and bare. What was still left, After the ravaging theft, Was the abundance of thorns. They stood haughtily, Mocking the gentility; Pricking any hand, That threatened their stability. The sharp stinginess, And personification of "hate", Was what kept them, Safe fr

"My past was glorious, Coz I had not met you. My future is gonna be wonderful, Coz I will soon forget you. My present, though, is a rough patch, Chequered by traces of you." These were the words, Etched on the walls of his heart. Reading which, In a moment, her world fell apart. "Welcome" was a distant dream, Even the "Goodbye" was so harsh.

I craved for a gentle breeze, To waft the freshness of air, Through me; To rejuvenate myself, From the worries and tangles; Relax for a moment, And be prepared for, More to handle. What struck me, instead, With a swooshing sound, Was whirling dust, In eddies of wind. Left me jarred; Gifting, what others discard; And kept me wondering, At how salve turned into abrasives. But there I was up again, Even the next day; Making myself vulnerable, For the play.

Its always there, No matter you land where; The 'ifs' and 'buts', Make you wonder, and stare. It stirs you with its glow, Like  a flame of light, You know you cannot hold; For that light, Would no longer be bright, If you capture it with your might. It surprises you with its calm, Like a serene ocean, Playing its charm; But you know you cannot jump in, For that itself would, Break the rhythm of the divine. It mesmerizes you with its fragrance, Like a fresh flower, In full bloom; But you know you cannot pluck it, For that would turn it, Forever, into gloom. Such is the fate of our wishful fantasies; 'I wish....', 'If only....', And many more like these... Deep down you know, Its not going to happen; For good or bad, Unable to fathom. But what's the harm, In wishing and aspiring; If nothing else, You are living that dream, In your heart, already.