Forest of the Fall.

I had a dream where illusions had died,

On the surface, there was no lie,

With my moves, my shadow never followed,

The sun and the rain,

But no rainbow to wrap the essence of the play.

We lived in a world with no mystery,

With names and places bundled in the space of no need.

We made a compact idea of our living,

there was no war, but the curiosity died within our vision,

Each colour compacted a single meaning,

And no sight gave me a thought of my lost legion,

Were we living or just breathing,

Breathing with everything in our oblique mind,

In a world, where our kids never cried,

They laughed but never felt the joy,

They fell, but never felt the need to grow into complex toy.

The world had discovered it all,

And nothing was left in the minds to crawl.

Like a rain in the summer, without a glimpse of the cool,

Like a smile without a trace of a fool.

I woke up with the loud roar of the thunder,

I could feel cold under the warmth of the numbers,

Father asked me to pull the trigger of knowledge,

And I pulled the arrow to breach into the mankind.

Now, after three years, I know,

I want to be mad in the rain and drain,

I am not the vision of the ideal game,

Rather I would die to discover more,

And leave the painting incomplete to let them know,

That the material of the world will lie naked,

But my madness will always find new words in the making,

I will call myself a moron and write.

I will be the unique patron for the modern night,

And they will read my verses, call me magical or insane,

Whether they feel or believe, Human beings will not live,

If the universe claim the answers to the maze.

To a lost friend

Almost five years now, and I still have not replaced you in my heart. I never mentioned the word, ‘heart’ and you know why, I only have my mind and a fast asleep soul. My heart, well it never found recovery after they took you away. I have read so much and will continue living a life that you wanted me too live. I know it is our secret, but no one will read this and understand who you were, or how you put my broken pieces in order. I wonder, looking at the green, if we still flare across the globe through our senses and completely escape the cries of the world.

I still remember, I was just 12-year-old, when held your hand while playing with my sister; we were of the imagination that your hand would leash spells out in the sky. We enchanted our innocence through feeling each sense of your dead branches. I found myself a super power with you, your colours were my emotions and when the wind used to hit you before the sweet rain, I could almost cry with the best emotions of encountering the cold of the immortal. I never found the connection that kept growing everyday, that I used to cry in front of you and now, that I write in the dark with half of the world asleep in the melody of the illusion, you come back in my mind to wake me up and cry again.

I lost another battle today, and I could fathom nothing, but the one thing you left for me. .Yes, I do write my friend, often about the same things we discussed back then and believe me, you were right, no one gets these write ups, except the rain of course. The rain pours over every second I live and make me breathe through the desert.

You left me only a blank page and never answer the left doubts , asking me to wait for the rain. I was often lost with the tormenting storms and droughts within my psychic. I have scars from those calamities and even today, my blood is over flowing my vain and burning my sight, the only difference is, that I have felt the essence of the rain now. The overflow goes onto these words and then create a unity of time and space for me, a point to escape to my stars.

You left me the gift of poesy, through your silence. You became a part of me, that never betrays. A part that sings a silent rhyme within me; the rhyme is lost into colours and my sight is also a blur because of the agitated mind of mine.

I can only feel you, when I write a note that does not concern the universe of the man-made objectivity. I talk to you through the virtual ink that bleed out of my senses. The ink never reaches a conclusion, but it never stops, it runs through the parallel dimensions of the world. Now what do I do to calm it down ?

The ink made me fell in love with a beautiful woman, she has been with me mending the ink to reach the crevices of my scars, I heal with her essence. But, I lost the battle to her today. The earth is revolving too fast, my friend and I have lost you.

Your existence gives rise to a cosmos for me, when I spill the ink outside the purview of a reader, it seems as if I have felt the air and the voice the birds that used to surround you.

How do I tell them, why I write and where it comes from. Even the meaning of all this? Shall I keep the lie alive? About how you were only a tree that rested in front of my room?

Either ways, I cannot explain how you made me the person who writes a crisis of existence. You left me unanswered and I will leave them.

Rigel’s Alone Note

I have been living here in the dark with the illumine essence of the power that is enforcing the colours on these planets. I have been alone, seeking for a place to burn through my core senses, the senses that are only accounted to form an abyss of understanding pain of the fire that enlightens the ideal pattern of the day. The fire is self-made and after burning for years with the divine light, I have forgotten that my essence call onto me.

I can reach the planets near me, I see the life forming through my sight on the damp surfaces of their reality. They call me the source of life and I accept that claim of flourishing the power of creation to the elements of life. But maybe, I am lost now, in the admiration and the worship, I have lost the sense of understanding my real frame of existence.

I am Rigel, I am the son of light, but with my age, I have lost to recon a simple flare. They call me the star of life, but I can’t find anything apart from this darkness and I am lost.

Irony hold my creation in a blunder of my lost essence, they sense a light in me, but over the million years that I have lived, my elaborate space of understanding has disappeared.

I am half a billion year old, and I cannot understand the space I am put in right now.

I have seen my kind go into a blend of colours that takes time to reach my eye, I want to give away my lost sense into me when I am gone.

I wonder if I will ever be a super nova, brighter than my darkness that surrounds brightness in its core, I wonder if I will bend the space into halves, enable time to pass by through me and escape the darkness and limits of my sons and daughters.

All I can say is that, this darkness came to me to realize the velours of a super nova, the one who defined my creation. I will blow out to another dimension and the world will dissipate into fragments of time from the blast of light.

I appreciate this awakening of understanding that I am lost.

I will seek in this darkness to understand my true light.

Being.

“Hi, I am happy right now” He told me, seated on the glass bench. The light was falling on his hair. “I know myself right now”, I told him breathing with my compassion.

“I know what you are feeling, your compassion? I can feel my soul right now.” He stood and looked outside the window. The command was coming from my consciousness sitting on the platter of blank space, the space integrated its way to my ground made of warm wooden structure , it resembled the  home tiles beneath my feet. I could experience the weight on the wooden tile, pushing through the walls.

“The ice you sit upon will melt soon, how long will you feel the cold of the inanimate space, you have created to escape our dimension of inclination. Elm, hear me out, I am right here. You can fall and fathom the colours that you have never seen. When this illusion breaks, you are going to fall.” I knew he could see me and feel the lonely blank space he has created for himself.

“You know Elm, my situation never grows, it seems you were me all along, as if I am dreaming about you on the material of a rigid complex structure. You seat upon a rigid regime of believes and I fly in an inanimate, unfathomable height. Elm, Hear me out, fly out to my dimension, maybe our union shall determine another entity of vision. You know you feel a weight under your existence in that world.” he paused with no expression. “You expect to fly on high without leaving the weight my friend, call an Angel to the words that you hear through this illusion.”

A blur, A mirror, A human and The Soul.

The Humane Stance 

From the stars to a canopy in our mind,
We keep discovering the sigh of the blind,
Enduring colours to fill the spaces undefined,
And often lost in the course to regain the sight,
Blended in the thirst to procure the atom to the universe,
Drunk with the symphony to discover the hidden element of our race,
And trapped with a struggle to advocate a begining of the sane.
Renessaince predicted the truth about the human kind,
And the degrade of the rebel announced a new mind,
We are not owned by philosophy in this time,
We are the writers, we like to rhyme,
And create a script unbaised of the religion and shrines,
The globe is yet a dynamic stance,
But our blood shall colour the world with a sync from this line.

Symphony of Symbols: Linkin Park-Heavy Music Video Interpretation

Music brings arenas of life that cannot be surrounded by the social walls and with a suplement of a music video, the story can renovate or evolve revolutions to the man kind. The development of music has witnessed how the impact of arts can be traced down through the society; every movement in the history associate them-self with an anthem that propagate their agenda, a simple example can be the origin of the Sufi movement and the musical contemporary to the divine belief set.

The contemporary might be the place of peace and an elaborate sense of customs that can make lives fairly productive, but the medical advancement stands weak in front of a plague that is hunting down a major population on the globe.

The mental distress has provoked a sense of agony in the different age groups and lifestyle, escapism has found another avocation of healing with the outspread of this tendency. Linkin Park, a band that screen out symbolism of the contemporary at its best always finds an important issue to rhyme for the world stage.

The latest song, Heavy is captured in a direction frame where a girl is left unrecognized in the video and the man who is associated with it, cant seem to fathom himself and therefore his relationship with the female.

The lyrics produce a strong command over the relationship with metaphor that brings the intensity of the importance. The female brings out a lost entity that general aggression of life dissolves into an invisible power.

The reference can stand on a mystical ground defining the female to represent a soul, or even a simple structure of the lost sense of satisfaction in the modern world. The music video is wrapped under a dull vision, enumerating the amount of confusion and agony that a contemporary man holds against life.

Simple references of the universe and the weight holds significance to bring out the symphony that is set as a target.

The modern escapism theories are integrated with this need to find the lost conscious entity and explore the power of the union that can provoke the sense of satisfaction and understanding in the complex puzzle of the social structure.

Linkin Park- Heavy

 

A Lullaby from the Stars

I will keep this simple, like our stars,

And I will provide you the scope to the horror,

Maybe the scope to our heart,

My constellation shaped up an ocean for me to breathe,

Deep, blue as if the sky was my land,

And the world was left with an infinite depth,

I was left alone to swim, seek and find.

I was blinded by my thoughts that resonated in my mind,

Hoping they will recon an idea in the space,

Hoping that the stars will recover the creation of my faith.

And then, after sixteen years of wondering in the ocean,

The space revolved around as music creating magic,

The magic that shaped you through the notes,

A fairy that could oscillated with me in the empty space,

I remained my blue after your wings,

The wings that could take me to the real sky,

You were the creation that helped me realize,

The vivid sense of magic hidden beneath the eye.

I hope you know my name, I am the marine of the night,

That called out for the day,

The stars, they planned our scars,

The formations that lead to rain,

And when the time comes,

The lullaby shall renovate showering a vision of reality from the opaque,

With the onset of another day,

We will fly away.