Skip to main content

Locked Dreams


I looked in the mirror
My eyes, barren and lifeless
The tears, strangled and tied for years
A moist marriage of emotions
My song, the one I have always wanted to listen
The song of my own, my compass
The one that clasped my hands
When I was afraid of stepping ahead
The one, a gentle hum in my heart
That pointed towards home, 
Painfully striving for birth
To break the strong chains of my heart
The strings of fear and doubt
I now feel those locked tears
Frozen in soulful, icy darkness
Melt in heat and finally, touch sunshine
Flowing without bounds in joy
I now feel my warm blood
Gushing in my veins joyously
Alive, with life and meaning
To chew and savour every moment
And feel the sweetness of life on my tongue
My eyes now glimmer in hope
Of distant dreams and wonders
Of meaning, my hopes,
My wishes and wants
That song of mine, lost far in the woods
Once trampled, under the weight of my lips,
Is now born in glory and pride,
This time, loud and clear,
To pierce and etch
Meaning in my life
To break the cocoon I hid myself in
To sculpt me into my dreams
Into the masterpiece I always dreamt of.

The song, once muffled among screams,
Is now loud and clear.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Letter to Thatha

The little specks of pearl in the sky Glowing and fuming, With the vapours of our memories.  In my swollen, glistening eyes, I saw the flare of your pyre in the stars, Like a spangle caught in my tears, The light of our love stretches its arms. I never knew a pain greater,  When my fingertips caressed your cold, grey folds of skin I never knew I could feel so broken inside, With scalding memories and a heart wanting justice. With last words untold, goodbyes unsaid. I never thought the day would come,  When I came home to your warm smile and open arms, But would instead be greeted by your empty chair. I never thought I would shudder and hide at your sight, Until you lay in the icy coffin like a child, Oblivious to our cries and wails. I never knew I would so badly yearn, To hear you call me one more time. I watched you become a child again. I never minded your faltering memory, Your greying eyes that often stared out in the open, I was content, With your pupils carrying a ...

Splendid Sisters! 👧👧

Hi guys! The person who embraced my successes and adversities, the one who always gave me a quick tickle and who made me realize the purpose of life is whom I want to share about today. Dear reader, if you are an elder brother/sister to a younger sister, you should consider reading this. Most elder siblings resent their younger sisters due to their drama-queen attitude. That does happen, a sister can be a brat sometimes. But, you know what? They can be heavenly blessings. They are cherubic sweet little angels, ready to bless your day and mine with a captivating smile (and no sister can be as sweet as mine, I bet!) who are ready to sacrifice anything for the defence of yours. Even if they have to take the second pick, they (almost) never protest. My sister is no less. She is classy, cool, carefree, hardworking, ideal and witty, the perfect figure of the today's independent modern woman's characteristics. She has an unbelievable ability - she can maintain size zero with...

Words - The Sounds of Human Emotion

Words, those beautiful masterpieces, with letters carefully handpicked like fragrant herbs from a garden. A word can lift a soul and yet shatter hearts for good. The letters, if plucked with grace, strung together carry free emotion trapped in a heart, and some crushed under the weight of pursed lips. A word can be a weapon to glue souls together and yet rip them apart. Some inspire a warm flush of butterflies, and some a distant, forgotten ache in the heart. Many carry the smell of midnight oil and the scholar’s despair, of a battle left unconquered and unfinished. Infusing the beauty of thought in words is an art perfected by some over years, some a lifetime. I let the art soak in my blood and veins, sink deep in my heart, until I truly own and cherish it as a whole. I let it run through my fingertips and watch them create profound meaning, as the art sculpts clumps of letters into a masterpiece to leave an imprint on every witness. A pen, no greater than the humble pencil, has been ...