She

Every imaginable emotion. Yes. Fierce protectiveness. Reverence. Lust. Chaste love. Sometimes desperation, and even insanity. She evokes them all. Upheld as a deity somewhere, looked down upon as a harlot too. She's seen it all. And survived it all. Her tears have moved men, her anger has razed forests to the ground. She's been called a heretic, a devotee. She's been accused of using her wiles to ensnare men, and never let the power go to her head.

And yet, when a woman loves, she loves. Without reason. Without guile. Without remorse.

Inside Out

Some say it's all about doing what you feel is right. Instinct. You dive in deep, into the unknown. Nobody's been there before you. If you're fortunate to get out alive, you tell the tale. And many follow.

It's about the experience. About breathing in every feeling. The fiery red sunset, how would it look from the sea? From underwater? How would it be if you lived a dream? Not knowing what the next moment was all about. And what if you did it all without a care. You have to be either desperate or indifferent to be that brave.

I am neither. And yet, now I find that I have it in me. To go, where I've never been before. I want to take every stupid risk. No, I am not suicidal. I'm too much of a coward for that. It's just that I've been waiting. Haven't really started living. Kept putting it off for later. And now I wonder, what if there is no later. What if this is it?

It's funny, but when you stop thinking, you start living.

Silence, it's something I need to practice. Never realized it till now. I've been out seeking the
proverbial rainbow and though it hasn't yet lost its charm, the search has made me wonder. It's been a while since I've stopped, and listened. There was this music I'd hum a lot, when I was younger. It's been a while since I've done that. Or heard that music. I barely listen to my thoughts these days. So much on my mind, I just get it all out. I forget that there is something I need to keep to myself.

Solitude is something I seem to take for granted. My moments of solitude do not give me the same joy now. I'll have to relearn it, the joy and the wonder, rediscover every little thought that'd amaze me, make me smile. And reflect.

In the wild cacophony, as I sit beside the window, I hear it at times. Broken;but it's there. Waiting to be heard, to burst out loud, into a million hues across my sky. It's pitch dark right now, but it's time the slumber ended.

Blue is the colour of melancholy
Of a sorrow that's almost holy.

For it is you and it will be you
It's over, but it will continue.

Not a hint, not a word
Because you think it's absurd.

Let me go on, just alone
For I care, and I mourn.

Loss, the word says it all
I cannot rise again or fall.

The winter mist is gone. It's time I moved on. The greatest poetry, supposedly, is born out of the deepest tremors of the soul. Yet, this selfish emotion does nothing more than wring my heart and leave me helpless. It's an emotional quagmire, I've learnt. One that I'll have to get out of myself. And yet, when they say there'll be another morn, I laugh. Because, little do they know, it's the dark, silent night that makes me sing. So, I wait for the day I'll find my voice again. The one I've momentarily lost. Tomorrow's going to be different, a new world, new faces. An adventure or a challenge, i'll have to find out on my own. Faith stays, it is something that refuses to budge. I know it's not going to be the same, because I am no longer the same. It's heartening though.....I'm growing up. :)