As I put pen to paper..

The moment the pen is put to paper, why do I feel so at peace with myself? Like a huge burden is off my chest and I feel nothing but lighter and happier inside when I pour my heart out in the form of my black ink on the white paper sheets, with every word I write?

I travel through these pages.. these blank pages just waiting to be filled with words, sentences, paragraphs and punctuations.. They take me everywhere and anywhere I want to go. Just me, myself and my thoughts. Escaping away from the gravity of this word that pulls us down toward everything materialistic, dragging us to the painful reality, the sad realisations of what life really is.. that when it comes down to it, it is either happiness or sadness. And one cannot exist without the other.

Why would one want to be in a world where we are in fact not the ones who make our own choices, but they are made for us,  just an unbearable set of heavy loads that we are asked to carry all of a sudden, at any moment, and mostly when it's least expected.

Hence, I take my weapon in hand, the one mightier than a sword, and I am afloat. Rising above everything as soon as it is in hand.

It takes me through time and space, through worlds and spaceless spaces, through timeless memories, through faded nostalgic moments.. It fills my heart with indescribable emotions, unbinding me from my inhibitions and I feel as elated as a deer running through an endless field of fresh green grass. The grass blades tickle my feet and the dew sends pleasing tingles down my spine.




I am free.

Sinful thoughts

I run through the tunnel

Eternal darkness

It grows in on me

From every corner,

Surrounding.

In my head

Are images that terrify,

Thoughts unwanted.

I try not to think,

Stop the flow.

I have no choice but

Surrender.

I try to free myself

From this monstrous grasp

Filling me with

Negativity.

I fight for my life,

My breath, my soul

No I don't want to part

With them.

Why does this fear 

Engulf me in?

Why do I feel

Like I'm fading
Into non existence?

Why do daunting images

Always include

Me without you?

I see a light 

The end of the tunnel.

I fear

It is burning fire.

War and Love

I ran through the fields;

Tried escaping the wrath.

My fear had no bounds,

As I treaded this warpath.

Blood flowing everywhere;

Boiling under the sun,

Cries of help in the air

But nowhere to run.

The smells choking me

To the insides of my lungs,

I see my hands bloody;

Feel the dryness of my tongue.

Running to the alley,

Where you said we would meet;

I pray to stop this cruelty,

On these city streets.

A war without victory

A war without virtues

No matter what happens

Mankind will lose.

I finally see your silhouette

As I reached the lowland

You waved out to me

Held out your outstretched hand

I ambled on toward you

But never did I suspect

That this would end in adieu

My ending so imperfect.

The explosion hit;

And I fell to the ground;

Saw your face frozen in shock,

Fading with the background

Before the lights go out

I whisper in your ear

"You are my everything,

I hold you so dear".

And looking at your face 

For the very last time

I memorize every detail 

And every fine line

I hold on to your hand

Till everything's gone.

No matter what happens,

Life must go on.

Invisible Cities : Italo Calvino - Zenobia

My feelings as I read the book Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino.
Thin Cities - Zenobia

Excerpt from the book:

"Now I shall tell of the city of Zenobia, which is wonderful in this fashion: although set on dry terrain it stands on high pilings, and the houses are of bamboo and zinc, with many platforms and balconies placed on stilts at various heights, crossing one another, linked by ladders and hanging side-walks  surmounted by cone-roofed belvederes, barrels storing water, weather vanes, jutting pulleys, and fish poles, and cranes.
No one remembers what need or command or desire drove Zenobia's founders to give their city this form, and so there is no telling whether it was satisfied by the city as we see it today, which has perhaps grown through successive superimpositions from the first, now undecipherable plan. But what is certain is that if you ask an inhabitant of Zenobia to describe his vision of a happy life, it is always a city like Zenobia that he imagines, with its pilings and its suspended stairways, a Zenobia perhaps quite different, a-flutter with banners and ribbons, but always derived by combining elements of that first model.This said, it is pointless trying to decide whether Zenobia is to be classified among happy cities or among the unhappy. It makes no sense to divide cities into these two species, but rather into another two: those that through the years and the changes continue to give their form to desires, and those in which desires either erase the city or are erased by it."

I arrive in Zenobia and I'm filled with awe and wonderment at the undecipherable plan with its crazy array of buildings on high pilings and stilts.

I look up at them, suddenly feeling very tiny, as they tower around me. They are interlinked by criss-crossing stairs  platforms and balconies.Although the inhabitants are happy and content to live amongst these chaos, I feel somewhat claustrophobic. I wish there would be some more openness to the city. Something more for the happy citizens.

One of the streets comprised of a typical building which is repeated in different manners along one particular street. I memorize its appearance and it lays etched in my mind..

I keep on walking, I see people celebrating, people fighting, people singing and dancing. I long to be a part of it all, and yet I find myself lost in the narrow, crooked streets of the darker side of this city that is otherwise teeming with energy. I encounter those who live hidden here, ones who have loved and lost, ones who have no friends, people with illnesses and sorrows and either have no one to share them with, or choose not to. I feel even the last drops of joy from inside of me vaporize, as I'm consumed entirely by this perpetual sadness.

I wish to lend a hand to those who suffer, but alas! my hands are tied up with the guilt of my actions and I've nothing to offer. I wish to be the shoulder to cry on, for those who need it, but alas! my shoulders are burdened with my grievances. I wish to be a friend to the ones that are lonely, but I myself am not a good enough friend. I swirl in my whirlpool of depressing thoughts, every one of them gnawing at my insides, punishing myself, causing myself pain. I want to scream out loud, but I have no voice. I want to call out to the gods of this city, but even they can't hear me from this corner of the world.

Just like this city, I live on.. I add on more burdens than I can bear, more sorrows than I can share. And yet I am happy with what I am, and what I have. Always content, always glad. With my burdens, pleasures, sorrows and celebrations. Through the years, my desires giving form to my changes...

Overcoming...

I want to write again
And yet I hesitate..
I don't know why
But I can only hope,
That by following where
My thoughts take me,
I'll reach somewhere unknown
Somewhere extraordinary.

Something holds back
From inside of me
Something invisible,
Only to be felt..
Like thin strings,
They pull at my thoughts;
Hold them back in,
Not letting them spill.

I try to break free,
I try to move on
To some place new
Some where unknown
Wherever my imagination takes me,
Where my faded memories lie..
Places from books,
And places from poems
Places I grew in,
And places dreamt of..

As I severed the last of the bondage
I ran out into the gloom..
Far out I ran,
Without looking back,
Gasping for air
That I'd been so deprived of
Breathing in with the utmost greed
I took it all in, without second thought.

The lights and the shadows,
They played on my eyes..
And I danced to the tunes
Of their silent music
I was overjoyed, ecstatic and elated!
At my self-righteous freedom,
Which I had, for so long awaited.

I closed my eyes to thank my God,
And I realised..
The darkness was no more.
Not even with my eyes shut,
Not even at night.

As the day ends..

I sit here, between dawn and dusk
My least favourite
Time of the day..
All these things around me
Painful reminders of
The bygone joyous days

I pick them up one by one
Each one washing me over
With waves of emotions one after the other..
Illuminated by the orange rays of the sun
They glow ominously
Staring at me

Yes, I know what they're telling me
How badly they want to tear me apart
Just like the wind as it grows chillier
Hissing angrily in my ear
I feel like they too are angry
"Why would you come, if only to depart?"

I put each one away
Try to get my packing done
Just like my memories
Tucked away in the corners of my mind
And even then I only wonder..
"When will I see you again?"