Words are the unit of thoughts. And some thoughts are helpless to be limited but powerful.
Incarnation of Words,
Dimensions of love
The lanes I walk through are deserted and dark,
The chains that clench me are decrepit and rusted,
For the time that they have bound me has been long and everlasting
I’m tired and I see nothing that can keep me going on this tread anymore.
I open my eyes and it all disappears, all I can see is light;
A vivid Aurora greets me with the scent of petrichor so mild
With no handcuffs of chains, I can move anywhere in this free space
I can run, I can laugh for I’ve found my freedom alas!
It hits me again and I can feel those restraints,
I see no chains or darkness but I can feel the same old incarceration
The freedom I felt was ephemeral or just a delusion,
I can now see the cage embellished with extravagance.
The freedom is what I yearn for, the binge doesn’t excite me anymore
With each breath, I grow more impatient to leave this treacherous world
I know nothing about the escape but I know the truth
This cognizance is a sweet pain, my only hope and my inconsolable ache.
A poem by Ankita Arora
I must now tell you a lore of an ancient light,
Written not in words that would wound back of your mind,
But jotted in between my revelations,
Of timelessness in this life,
For the stage is set and in this ache, all of my heaviness lies,
He the one who was not a lie,
But a naked truth clothed in his own pride,
And to whom I was born in this dimension to seek and find.
Whose redemption lied in the every arduous descent,
While I still had courage left to fly,
Who claimed that I was the ruby in river,
When the skin that covers the soul of mine,
Could have reflected back only the blend of all the lights,
That lied in his salvation while he took his final flight.
I might not have known the taste of the wounds,
From his definition of life but,
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The story begins with a dream,
A vision that collide with my need,
And further to delay the call of thoughts,
I rest myself in the lonely meadows of the lose.
A step into the illusion and the tear of my fright
To be the man I drive onto the forest.
This path is going to reveal itself,
And the man shall meet himself,
Through visions and strikes of our mind,
He will meet the pieces of god,
Will wither away from their sight,
The man who will lose it all,
Shall reach deceived on to the land of the third eye.
Die or live, let the divine interfere,
For now, I proclaim the creation of the man,
Who will be lost within to find the hymn.
From this word, I breathe to lie,
To the world an illusion and to me, myself.
A world that appears to live with your mind,
With each word that you read,
My lie elaborates a reason to live.
Now that we are together,
You and me, lets embrace my visions though your eyes,
I will write about the sunset,
And you cry out for the moon,
I will incarnate a feeling,
And you colour it within.
But, before we leave to this empty page,
You should know that I am here for the play,
I run away from my own desires,
and leave such thoughts to rust in deny,
And do we really need to rhyme our journey ?
And I should warn you again, my friend,
Dante never burned in hell.
It was the man who wanted the travel,
Lost and never to be found again.
If you are willing to come,
Let me tell you, the river often flies with the dead of love.
And now you are my creation, a song,
We can fly like a bird,
Die in another word,
Live like the Bhrama’s call,
Deceive the stars of destiny above.
A poet’s point being a puzzle,
What difference resides between a human and a word,
A word and a belief,
A lie and a truth,
Rather all began and die out lose?
I believe I am a word of my poet,
I will end within the verse of life,
Yes, with a meaning that only he will decide,
A lie, A thought, Just an inspiration to write.
A little dwell on the pen to enumerate an expression,
To let the ghost be aware of the dark,
Or the dark be afraid of my ghost,
To entangle a hopeless vision and adore,
A million feelings that knock my door.
A poet, they say need the cry of the muse,
But will they ever know the secret of the doom?
For every time, I lose myself into the room of words,
I call upon a thousand spirits,
To guide my hands and spell the right song.
Enumerating through my past,
The affair of the ink to last,
To repeat the same sentiment of my greed,
I befoul myself into a clown.
To paint me in the ink and enrol the aura of belief,
A poet, they say need the cry of the muse,
But who am I to lie?
I can only wonder and host a point of view.
My friend is driven through the lore,
My own self, hidden inside a dark robe,
The mighty exploration of the song
is to him the opiate of this play,
he explores and wonders night and day,
questioning the stars, asking for his name.
” I am the master of my trail,
I have discovered elements,
I am mended with the sky,
But I wonder how to derive
The arduous descent of my life.
Maybe, the world I see is all that is to believe?
My amorous stakes of the need,
My quest can never be deceived,
Of all that I have lost or found,
One thing has been my evasive need,
A desire to dream and bleed with the melodies of possibilities.
I will wonder throughout the fall,
Will look at the moon and dance till I fall,
For my descent is yet to announce,
The vast ocean, self-less and unbound.
I would rather decay in the morn of my defeat,
Then to be obsolete from the dilemma of my deeds.”
To him, the world was an endless hymn,
To him, the moon merely replied,
” Call upon yourself inside,
The lore would bundle your shine,
The descent of the space and time,
All hidden in an empty line,
For when you dance, I seek the night sea,
Pull the river sheets to fall a tide beneath,
The tide shall rotate the wind aloud,
And when you dance, my command shall reach its sound,
You are, the very core to me,
The friend lost in a puzzle with the false clay of need,
Icarus could not fly to me, He was lost within the only sea,
Why don’t you wake up from the dream beneath,
And know yourself, how oblique is the sight of the dream.
One equation for all the falls,
solve the myriad of the lost accord,
Call upon the wind you breathe,
And decipher yourself, as the leave that dances with the breeze.”
That one incentive drowned his opiate into the river,
He woke up to find me bleed,
For he is red in the river, silenced from the dark isolation,
And I fly through the lakes of redemption,
I was the moon that heard the lore,
And brought the quest into the shore.
I am your name and the name of the hold,
I am the one who never bends with time,
or rhyme in the deceiving space,
The lie that the nature erased.