Doing Something

If you squint a little, you would see a figure walking down the same path. There, sits a hermit who tells the old tales to who listens... He says the path is one And yet taken by many You see the potholes Many have fallen in A shadow looked lost and pale Giving up for he sees nothing, There is a child picking pebble To see what's beneath it He tells of the time When battles were decided with swords When word of the mouth Was worth more than gold. The hermit sees the time and keeps the happenings in mind. And he offers to tell the tale to those who stop and listen to him from time to time.

One afternoon he wondered about where he went wrong. He listed out all the events of the past with nothing better to do...   Could it be that point When saying actually felt awful When trying to save something Resulted with nothing at all. Or perhaps it was then When life asked you to choose Presented the valley of green With no clues of what's hidden. No, maybe it was when He thought it was right But turned out double-edged sword Whether you take left or right. Sitting there wondering about what has come to pass proved rather barren. Reminiscing about the what else he could have done was like putting salt on the wound. He realised what is wrong now... That double-edged sword Was rather inevitable He has come to this journey And sitting still only hurts his butt Perhaps it was about choosing And living with the choices He didn't have to have it bright His left can also be right Sitting there, going in loop Will definitely end with unhinged mind For it is not going to bring peac...

There are not enough words to define the emptiness that we feel. It could be anything, from something insignificant to something that is beyond understanding. Nowadays, it doesn't take much to stir the peace of the mind. Yet, what is so disturbingly astonishing is the way that we accept it and remain as the victim for much more time than needed. Regretfully, I am one of the unfortunate souls that have been in this quicksand for a long time now. It is not a tragic story but a common tale of today but as they say "you were not there!". I think this so-called anchor has long stalled my journey and it is time to cut it out because I have chosen the wild tides than the deadly quiet peace. Hence, I have decided to tell... I have picked up the shovel started filling with the old tales one by one it will go till I am done with this grave  dug for me once by my own misery and mistakes as I have learned that it is not my day. But I will honor you with the gr...

Looking at a spot For hours on end Mind heavy with thought Heart heavy again Looking back, I recall The promises about the aim Butting head with fate All, to change who I am And how it came to this An empty shell at the beach The sound of the ocean is a scam The illusion of peace that I am Oh, don’t be fooled with the posture The signs which suggest the calm Nothing but the remains of defeat Of the battle lost and, of the swords withdrawn. It’s not numbness that has spread But the guilt of not being brave The sobs that have wrecked the body And regret eats away at the soul Oh, how I wish to start over again To rid of this cruel mayhem Where I am crying for myself But no tear tracks as evidence.

I told them that I am dying inside been at the edge before have spent nights looking at the sky Every time I run out of words when I try to say, I try. Don't look at me with hope Because I don't want to watch it die I spend the moments trying to lift my shoulders pull the corners of my mouth up And it's hard to pull off this act getting worse as the days go by becoming more of a stranger inside becoming more of an empty shell I am shouting and screaming "Take me away" But you don't see because it's dark where I hide In the morning I don't want to open my eyes But I do in hopes of finding the side What am I supposed to do When I pick a pen whose ink has dried.

The sun rose the following day brought new happenings the surroundings stirred and the day started with the same thought  though waist-deep in quicksand "I will do better today". Sat on the working chair took a cup of tea hoped that it will be sweet started to mend the broken rhythm went low and above a place somewhere unknown  so consumed that  I faded. My tea had gone cold By the time I came to earth Had gone seven more inches down My thoughts went to overdrive then I remembered the promise The reason that I try "I am here for you" My tea tasted bitter But I tried.

She had already left home when she decided that this was the wrong path. All that success that came by evaded the biggest why. Why was she thrust upon this world? Left years behind some forgotten in the dust some gone behind lust something amiss; she has to find What is she Looking for? She had already decided there is no going back wanted to shake off  the feeling left home to be free What is she trying to escape? Now she is standing at the cliff not knowing what to do It's not that she lived for years she doesn't see any reason to Should she jump or stay?