I shall rather use the photographs to speak for the background of all the musings.
Not just words, it seems the universe provoke the senses of my soul with every single glimpse of rhythm, image or sound. Poetry, they call it.
The time has come where the ink shall reach the land,
Where you sit in peace, where you preach power.
How beautiful, the crown of wind, how majestic;
And you residing as the angle to hold the man.
Storms, they tend to have their way,
And the sand does not go with the fur of elegance,
My dear, how you make the cyclones to woe the sand?
How you assemble the serenity in the sorrow,
Roar in the rare dark caves of your mind.
All to escape through the light colors that delight,
Fourteen lines cannot do justice to the adore,
The Queen that addresses the masses of universe,
So different than the rest, such charm of life,
Either the ocean or the veil, the choice shall rest your day.
Sketch by Nistha Agrawal
Alive like the blood, Compelling as the rose.
It is all a simple rhythm to move along,
Maybe dance a little and colour the song,
It is the human nature to be adamant with prejudice,
Not for us, our senses can go beyond to empathise.
Peace is our stance while we listen,
And we expect the same from our whistle,
We may be horrid with the horns,
But often, humour can help you heal the wounds.
We are short-lived in anger and concern,
But the aesthetics shall remain and the future shall learn,
How trivial images can shape revolution for them all.
We hold the throne of lands on our head,
The passion that rules, hidden under the crest.
I realize they never settle,
I realize they never look up to the sky,
To find the spirit resting the strings to our nerves,
Rather, they drown and try to seek life in our troubles.
But as the inhabitants of the sea,
You and I shall hold the tranquil harp of needs,
For only when the ocean is calm,
They will feel the strings from the moon,
Pulling the existence to paradise from the clay.
Arid to their cause, we were blinded,
But always, and often their lucid dreams would tell,
That the souls rest on the verge of the waterfall,
Just like another one from the seas,
Seeking the symphony beyond the terror of deeds.
#joke #lol #haha #funny #hilarious
Holding it all together with 1 bobby pin. I'm a 24 year old homeless mom; holding on to hope & sanity. Documenting true events, thoughts, & opinions: while dealing with mental illnesses, scars from the past, & learning to love. Simply writing this because my quality of life is being compromised; with the inability to control negative thoughts & emotions: Chronic Over-Thinking. My mind spends a huge amount of time & energy on specific lines of thought; usually pertaining to my rough childhood or the struggles of currently being homeless. I don't have full control over my mind or emotions. So to keep myself busy, I'm considering this as my type of councleing.. unprofessional psychiatric self help diary sessions.
When I hear this sound that awakens me, intimidating its way into my cloistered night, I write...
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