“Content and satisfied
Yet incomplete and lost;
Love life philosophy
Yet money making practicality;
Impressed at the first sight
Yet the prejudices stay relate;
Truth remains a fact
Yet post-truth the reality.”
“Flying high away in freedom,
The birds find their way in the blue,
A clarion call amid the silence,
And the flock gets ready to glue.
The breeze from within the gather
Catches the eye of an aged soul,
Famished and battered by slavery
His old eyes glitter at sight of one whole.
The idea spells fire in the hearts
And the minds of the ravaged, the conquered,
It strikes deep within a place called hope
As the heads long fallen rise towards the sky.
The wind kisses their zeal, enriches their spirit,
As they gather together under the old man
To march their union, to show their solidarity
To make themselves the master of their own fate.
They stand their peace, they hold their chain,
With their sight in place for freedom and freedom alone,
They gather their courage, they bury their hatchet,
To see the long whisper become a roar again.”
“There is a side unclear, a side untold,
The version of us that we never show,
We hide it locked inside a closet
We let it remain till we would never know.
Charades of life put an extra weight
To the burden that we carry of a lost side,
In appearance we try to look perfect
But in truth, we only miss the other half fade.
Time comes once with every peek we take
At the locked closet in our heart,
It’s a sight endearing about the memories of a child,
Lost in search for an eternal spring that never arrived.
Battling the wits and the cronies,
Scarring the dreams we once felt,
We move with time with circles in our head
To understand it’s okay that we all do grey.
Things slip, things are compromised,
Shelves are divided and organised,
The locked closet drifts away in memory
As things slip, and things are prioritized.”
“Walk Away” Pic Credits: Google (Couldn’t find the real photographer to tag)
“Bright lights of a Christmas tree,
The spark in the eyes of a little girl,
Seated below, looking at the sky
With her carefree smile in her shiny red dress,
Waiting for someone to appear,
Expecting her miracle to come true,
She closed her eyes one final time
And opened to find a thin frail Santa
With her father’s moustache,
Holding a present for her with a smile.”