He was but a boy of thirteen, with shiny eyes full of dreams.
The same beautiful eyes saw his father die.
They were still the same, as beautiful as ever,
but their owner changed, aged years in no time.
With or without the dreams eyes shinned the same.
You don’t age in numbers or year.
You do age in scars, tragedies, and experience.
I do not fear death, at the same time I cherish my life.
The mere reason that I cherish my life, and of those around me, takes away the fear of death.
I do not care how ferocious is the demon that I fight.
As long as he is a demon I will fight.
The worst of my fears is fighting a man, normally living earth dwelling man.
I fear the voice which tells me that the demon whom I fight is, in fact, a man,
that he also has someone to protect.
That he also is comfortable fighting demons.
That he also demonizes me.
That he also fears to face a man.
That he also is just like me.
That killing him is just a suicide.
I feel alive when death offers her hand, a dive into the void.
I feel alive while clenching my fist it sweats on the insides.
I feel alive when my truths find some concerned yet fearful lips.
I feel alive when a rifle butt stamps ‘traitor’ on my back.
I feel alive because no-one suppresses the dead.
I feel alive when I see my blood fights the grayness of soil.
I feel alive because one-day every tree will grow read leaves.
“When growing up everyone of us have been told to concentrate while no one has ever been formaly tought how to do it.”
– A friend of mine told me once but i’m pretty sure it’s not his original.
Continue reading “How to Focus? Or How not to Focus?”
Much before we spoke,
trees talked with winds.
Dried leaves fell on roads,
stepped upon, they talk,
Was it always a monolog?
Much before the Clocks,
time wheeled the same,
it saw, felt, remembered,
and webbed an endless yarn.
Did time imagine reality?
Are we a fairy tale?
Continue reading “Much before.”
buried into my chest
yet so distant.
Waging a war,
There is no me,
not within me,
in you there is.
it’s all you.
A desert it was,
where I buried my dreams,
some mine some borrowed,
a passerby told me,
it’s now a forest.
I found a cloth,
stained and old,
buried in my backyard,
yearning to be found,
stained in blood,
with cuts in the back,
suggesting a lethal wound,
suggesting a crime,
suggesting a dead man,
Wait !!! Continue reading “A bloodstained cloth”
I pray to you
and it’s my last
Give me a reason
to live or to die. Continue reading “Dear Tomorrow”
When I joined the fight,
I knew my fate,
and I will die,
fall on you,
merely a drop,
On your throne,
made of stone,
will do no harm,
years later, Continue reading “I will rain”