I am standing very still,
As I watch this life pass me by,
Without waiting for me to catch up.
They all moved on, from this moment,
But I found myself stuck, feet planted,
Just distant thoughts of evanescent dreams,
Reaching out to pull me back to the present.
And I am stuck in time,
Unable to take a step forward,
And I cannot go back.
The naïvety of love drowned in me,
The innocence to trust unconditionally.
Now I pine constantly to feel without pain,
To reach a state of being comfortably numb.
I watch the colors merge into white,
As they envelop me in a swirling wind,
And I find, time has passed me by.
The thoughts have become a blur,
I cannot fathom where one begins and another ends.
Yet I can still see myself clearly,
Standing in the midst of this bedlam.
The voices from the past echo,
Through the crevices of my mind,
But all I can hear is noise.
I was always so caught up in this inner strife,
I had forgotten what it meant to breathe.
Soon even the voices in my head passed me by,
And I found myself trapped behind these bars.
The footsteps can be heard,
Ringing through the silence,
But they can never be seen.
My footsteps were lost in the illusion of space,
No matter where I turned,
I was greeted, by only darkness.
And I could hear the distant siren of a train.
The siren of the train too was a blur,
Decoded from the depths of time,
Heard so faintly I thought it to be a lie.
I went running, trying so hard to catch up,
Out of breath, but trying harder,
That I might reach the handle of this train,
But the train of life left, it carried on without me.
There is only one thing to do now,
To start over from scratch,
And learn to walk hand-in-hand with time.
Note: The above photograph was found Here. I was greatly inspired by it to write the above piece.
Note #2: Apologies to everyone who has been commenting on my blog and not getting comments in return, or receiving them very late. I don’t have Internet connection at home right now, because of which all blogging I do, has to be done from work. It is not always the easiest place to blog from, and over the last few days though I have come to my office to use the Internet, couldn’t quite find time to visit everyone. I will get down to it as soon as possible, which should be soon as I think either today or tomorrow my Internet connection at home should be activated. Thank you to everyone reading this!
Summer has come and gone,
And the fragrance of these soft memories,
Hang heavy in the air.
Leaving traces of a life I once had,
Lingering on in the touch of your breath,
Fleeting, always fleeting, never to be caught,
These memories I have tried so hard to hang on to.
A bloodless strife hung heavy in the air,
The strain of which left me weakened.
The flash of anger, the screaming,
Were reduced to echoes in my head,
As I silently watched the blood drip,
Down my hands, like blade on ice.
The world gave a shudder,
As the will of my being broke apart.
It was the wounds that tore me apart,
Growing like a cancerous tumor.
The scars of loving you, never quite erased,
Off the face of my stitched up heart.
Oh the anger, it was always the anger,
Or it was the psychosis of my mind?
The lands cracked under pressure,
As the strain of living, deep inside, surfaced.
Weary grows the idle mind, weary with rust,
The cracks deepen, till it crumbles into dust.
When was the first weapon planted,
Deep beneath the layers of this love?
It was a silent killer, slowly spreading like a virus,
Until it consumed all there was to take.
The oceans fight a raging storm,
The ship is sinking, down, down it goes.
There remains no structure to lean on,
No spark of life to keep me hanging.
Falling, I am falling, deep into the ocean,
As the waves crash me upon the rocky shore.
Your voice whispers inside my mind,
“It was only the calm before the gathering tempest.”
The bullets shoot across the battlefield,
I was hit long before it rained.
Life is a battlefield, which never sleeps,
For even in dreams, the bombs fly artfully.
The haunting sound of your silence overwhelms,
As I writhe in pain, waiting as the tears stream down my face.
If only you understood the working of my mind,
Or maybe I was the one who never saw the torment of yours.
The volcano erupts in a flare of burning vice,
Smothering completely all in its path.
Your scrutiny of my being, of my body, mind, and soul,
Was only a dissection of that which you do not know.
For you never chose to see me as more than a shadow of myself,
But termed what you did see as the body of a shadow.
If you see the fire as a form of destruction,
You will only have the ability to destroy.
And destroy you did, with your single act of kindness,
That fine thread which tied my heart to yours.
My only sin was to love you unconditionally,
But the price I am now paying.
I shall not love ever again,
As long as I take this breath of mortal life,
For in me is dead, the fire of life.
Only empty cold stone continues to exist.
He was a man who calculated the value of all
With the weight of paper and metal.
I must go on, as life is a gift far too precious,
A gift I would discard,
If only I could weigh it out with gold.
But life is far beyond the tangible we seek,
It can never be bought back,
Nor can one life be replaced with another.
He was a man who knew no sentiment,
Except for that of his own.
Must I feel for my entire life,
This agony I feel slowly poisoning my heart?
It seeps beneath my skin, burning like acid,
Killing me softly,
But only in the mind and soul,
As my body lies untouched.
He was a man who had everything one could want,
But valued nothing except the immaterial.
I am physically alive,
What good is a body enslaved by mental pain?
No, I am dead in every aspect,
Dead as the rotting wood in the backyard,
Dead for the maggots of the mind and heart to take over,
And eat, till nothing of me is left.
He was a man who was a victim of greatness,
Such that he could see nothing beyond himself.
There is only an emptiness,
A void were life should have been.
The noise of the vacuum becomes deafening,
As it grasps onto every aspect of my life.
This broken heart has consumed all,
Such that even the bowels find themselves empty.
He was a man who towered over giants,
The very giants who made him a man.
Where tears should be, I have only dry cheeks.
Where a smile paints itself, the paint runs dry.
Where passion should be, exists only apathy.
Where love should be, only indifference is supplied.
For it is the emptiness in me which speaks aloud,
Emptiness which lives, and which shall die.
He was a man who knew no boundaries,
Save for the limitations of his empty heart.
I can feel a phantom pain where my heart should have been,
The heart which was torn out
And shredded a million times over.
This empty pain shall be with me always,
Haunting me till the ends of time,
As once amputated, it can never be regrown.
He was a man who knew how to live,
But never knew the feeling of being alive.
What is this emptiness which has consumed me?
Leaving behind regrets for me to feed on,
And I am pondering, wondering, where did I go wrong?
But the answers remain hidden.
And so I live a mere shadow of a life,
All because my only sin was to love you unconditionally.
He was a man whom I once dared to love,
Until he chose to leave me forsaken.