Skip to main content

Odyssey

I found myself on a trail, seeking the vestiges of stardust's lingering memories. Perhaps, my curiosity was drawn to the pain it once bore in the crucible of gravity.
They say fortune smiles when your star aligns with you. Intrigued by this celestial promise, I would pray and tilt my head skyward, gazing at the descent of stars, yearning for one to cross my path. Testing destiny's hand with each falling star became a ritual for me. 
It was a shepherd boy who revealed me the tale of a rare falling star—a crimson diamond giant. He spoke of an unprecedented sight in his nocturnal wanderings, beneath the suspended lanterns of the sky.
As a child, I marveled at the expansive night sky from the sturdy shoulders of my father. Now, no longer that inquisitive child, I gaze back, contemplating the innocence I once held. 
Time flowed like a nocturnal train through the shadowy woods, and I matured. 
I was a young poet desperately trying to take off from the gravity of my existence. I know I must have seen the most beautiful things in my life.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Yellow Butterflies

She had just celebrated her hundredth birthday. A hundred years. The number fascinated me more than the life it contained. I looked at her and thought, What a blessing. Imagine living for a century. At that age, I still measured life in quantity. I had not yet learned that years accumulate differently from meaning. She rarely spoke. The world had slowly withdrawn from her senses. Food no longer delighted her. Conversations dissolved before reaching her. The pleasures that once animated her existence had become distant rumours from another life. She had possessed almost everything one could desire—a loving husband, a beautiful home, security, comfort, longevity. By every conventional measure, she had won. Yet old age is a peculiar thief. It does not steal all at once. It removes things patiently, one by one, until only a few fragments remain. For Anne, only three things survived the wreckage. Her husband. Her home. And the longing to return. Every day she asked the same questions. ...

Utopia in Heaven

Fractions of ambivalence intervened with facts confuse me. What sort of memory should I resort to? What sort of woods should I head to? Moreover, what sort of thought I should entertain? serenity compromised with the rage still ravish me, for the flight unto the firmament where the manipulated thoughts have placed both the hell and heaven, though both of them begin with 'H', I see two parallel lines running towards uncertainty. However, somewhere in between I also see a line connecting them! Yeah, both Hell and Heaven are connected- ('H' with a '-'). I dream of a thought where both hell and heaven live in harmony and peace. What a beautiful thing to remember! Both constructive Satan and God share their love, thoughts, and goodwill in peace and co-operation! I think it’s happening right there in my crazy thoughts. off topic - What is love? Love is beyond definition and it transcends all barriers and definition. Once a question was asked to me on l...

Wake me up...

Wake me up when December bells. until then, let me sleep in thy...