First and foremost.
A single word,
So much mystery, dangerous as a human it is , too sharp, draws up through the centre of our life cutting everything into two, before and after.
The rest of the world falls away on either side,
And may thy word spread beauty, longing, and silence.
In no time we shall fall and drown in the purity of this word.
And this word, our life, a symphony of nature behold peace, and be called love.
It’s a never-ending book. Few bad chapters in the nook of a hearty story.
Sinful, some might say. I say it’s theatrical.
Of the 4 stages that Shakespeare penned, adulthood is the most challenging.
In the start of 2019, I was beaming with happiness. Needless to say that it
was supported by a blissful quantity of love.
But the tricky question is, do I feel the same happiness now?
Should I be an optimistic liar and say, no, I’m happier now?
Painful truth; no I’m not.
I’m rejuvenated, yes. Peaceful, yes. Happily in Love? No.
But that never stopped me from growing, breathing, and cherishing
small things in life.
Hence, the bad chapter, how much ever effective it was, most definitely
did not drain my ability to lose my peace of mind.
This bad chapter, when looked closely, turned out to be a beautiful chapter.
Contradiction? Yes. Isn’t that what life is? A big contradictory white lie?
Amend, shape, observe and smile.
Smile and breathe.
You deserve it. Although it’s a bad chapter, it’s not a bad book.
There’s always time to right the wrongs and rewrite your story.
One bad chapter may lead to a beautiful part of your life and maybe even a happy ending.
She wanted to build an empire.
Among princes and princesses lived a commoner, thirsty for power that could unleash the fire she held within.
When crowns were handed to languid monarchs, she pitied their fictitious
appreciation and worth.
Beauty being the least important trait, courageous she was,
as a wild thunderstorm, she withheld solitude and wisdom.
Every passing day she grew, irrigating the seed of ambition.
Down she fell as many times as she could, but rose taller and poised as
the epitome of perseverance.
With her pretentious rage for ambition, growth, and serenity,
she built a castle in her heart, amidst the empire of her dreams.
She did not worry about the uncertainties of time and destiny.
Neither did she hold the kindling hurricane.
Battling all that stood in her path, she traveled as the personification
of life, gratitude, success, and concentration,
thereby, fitting the final piece of her puzzle.
Serene did she look with that crown on her poised head,
melancholy soared; for she was born to be a queen, a daughter of no-king. Self-made and phenomenal she stood,
a sight to be looked upon by the princes and kings.
It’s all ignored.
The ethnicity, the heritage, the moral values of the realistic by time and ignorance.
We study the time of inscription in the minute period of a child’s life.
Embedding the values of power, struggle, nature, native and sole values of a being’s birth when a child is merely a bud.
All that he learns is material and insignificant.
Why teach values and history if he doesn’t understand the moral and lessons in it?
We say they’re the seeds of the future.
But what’s the use if the seeds are of weeds?
We water and care for the growth of weeds.
The life in plain sight is normal and growth is dreamful but the meaning of birth is useless without serving the cause of it.
Make choices with the purpose of bringing peace for you and all those around you.
Our culture and heritage will be lost if the growth of weeds is more than crops.
Full fill your needs, then those of the needy and then the wants of your child.
Instill the moral values in the heart of a child and not his brain!
I wake up every day to the mellow of your voice echoing through my dreams.
You pull me close and whisper and peek into my future.
I jerk and pull back and whine from a child’s dream.
You hug me to the ends of the world and for my little eyes open.
I take a breath to feel your presence and memorize every part of you and your lovable touch.
Every morning you rock me in your arms to the pretty lullabies you learned for your lifeline.
I open my eyes to the one and only for who you are, my world.
I’m eternally indebted to you.
My death she said, a poor child she was,
may thy God grant me less pain and silence.
Hoped the god hear her pain, she wept all along,
yet god had no remorse for the poor soul.
She sobbed and begged, no more could she take.
My world shred blood and sadness she cried.
Thy god was immune.
She sat and penned,
and watched the destiny she felt, tear through her.
Thy God have mercy for the poor, end her suffering,
for all she dreamed was,
soulful dear ones and colorful dreams of nature.
Thy god had nothing to spare.
She wept and kneeled,
thy God save this child,
before she drives the knife.
Tripping on the path, staring at the moon light, tiptoeing on the sideway, a child of colours. Alluring as an unicorn, dreaming through the rainbow, incredible she is, a child of colours. Fearless in the wicked world, gallant soul in growth, awaiting the fantasies, a child of colours. Mischievous and adamant, aiming for the impossible, confident in purest innocence, Is the child of colours.
She walked down the aisle in her beautifully woven golden dress,
chorus of praises and blessings echoing through the altar.
Whilst her speechless handsome groom was standing in the arch of her destiny, she searched for the distant presence of her father’s heart.
Unsure she was, with futile thoughts in her pretty little mind.
He held her shaking hand meaning to send her to a world of strangeness,
she kissed him love and happiness unable to feel the pain of separation.
He smiled through the pouring tears of love and joy.
She memorized the last moments of being a princess to the man who brought her to earth.
She felt weak yet strong for the choices the world had offered.
She smiled and took the vows for it was not the end but a new beginning.
Sri Suriya 