Skip to main content

Whispers of a New Dawn

A road is needed, not a mere path to traverse,  

Why require a song if a voice can converse?  

When will hearts be reached without knocking on chests,  

Do you not recognize the seekers' quests?  


Must I wield a needle to pierce the abyss,  

The shallow darkness where fierceness exists?  

For my cause is neither love nor war,  

But silence, science, and the pursuit of the afar.  


As you leave Mother Earth helpless and torn,  

Father Time shifts the tectonics, clouds are reborn.  

And I await the end of this cycle’s demise,  

So that a new era may finally arise.  


When we grasp the need for preservation,  

And understand the call for conservation.  

Yet why should I care if there’s no path to tread,  

It seems all my strikes have faltered instead.  


I long to be part of something profound,  

To find a place where I am truly bound.  

I wish to be lost, adrift at sea,  

Rather than have everyone with me.  

Here's a more mature redraft of your lines:


I am neither complete without the quiver 

Nor fulfilled with just the arrows. 

The bullseye is meaningless without the goal, 

Just as purpose is lost without direction.


I will not drown; I shall swim to the shore,  

With no ego to hinder, I’ll open the door. 






Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Reason

Disclaimer : Y es, this is another note where I am not talking about any person living or dead, the resemblance is neither uncanny nor eerie. Especially politicians or ministers or chiefs, I fear them and I have my reasons. I dare not speak against the ideology the majority is in support of.  This is my first attempt to write something about the future, a dystopian future to be precise. The idea of a dystopian plot is to predict the future bearing in mind current changes. That being said, I think a Zombie apocalypse is the first thing I would have predicted after a global pandemic. Zombies? These slow creatures that are bloodthirsty because they have none, they do not have souls, they do not have minds, they just have greed for blood. I’ve always felt Zombies are closer to greedy, self-centred leaders political or otherwise, who crave just one thing power. More Powar! Pawar over mODIfication over everything names of cities, stations, teams of Shivs’.  - - - - - - - - - - - - -...
6 comments
Read more

From Meghna Pariyar Thadani To Jai Singh Rathod.

Disclaimer: My mother has always emphasized the joy of writing letters. During my school days, she guided and taught me how to write letters as a lesson in English literature. We were even taught to write telegrams as our CBSE books were outdated. She once mentioned that letter writing is therapeutic and calming. The act of pouring out one's feelings onto paper is like unpacking one's mind. You shed a tear or two, let the emotions flow through your pen, and write more until you feel better. With this in mind, I bring back the lost art of letter writing for a fictional character, Meghna Pariyar from the movie Janne Tu.. Janne Na.., who yearned to express her thoughts and feelings to Jai Singh Rathod. Letter writing allows us to heal our hearts and minds, to release our emotions, and to let them flow freely onto the page. Its obvious that the characters, their arcs and the emotional holds are fictional, they possibly have link to the few of us who have feelings but don't want...
9 comments
Read more

Bombay Gotham

I stand on an island surrounded by the sea, a place that never wanted itself to be  Where the Victorian Gothic facades rise like hymns of another century, and the stone animals perched upon them breathe a silence that outlives every monsoon, every riot, every crumbling of the present. Owls with carved feathers guard the library domes, their eyes wide as if they alone can read the secrets the city hides beneath its noise. Cats, slender and alert, arch above courthouse arches, watching justice arrive late, as it always does here. Reptiles coil around forgotten pillars, their stone tails wrapped in stories that no one remained to finish. Grotesques cling to cornices with teeth bared sentinels of vanished fears, echoes of an empire that carved its nightmares into the body of the city. And beneath them, Bombay rearranges itself. Streets widen; skylines rise; old doors vanish behind new glass; war offices turn into cafés where people speak of futures the past could never have imagined. S...
3 comments
Read more