The Art of Silent Rituals

 And so there it was...

The art of silent rituals.

That grey space between 

Faith and doubt,

That carries your thoughts 

And wander to that place 

Older than fear,

Unmoored and daunted.

So there it was...

The art of silent rituals.

The familiarity 

Of the odd things you do,

Like a prayer without a meaning.

While your mind is saying - 

If everything is just so happy,

Then it might not be the reality.

But there it was...

The art of silent rituals.

Drenched in de javus,

And the scents of fear

Over something 

Your mind created, 

But just like a ghost,

They are myths that never happened.

 But in the end,

Nostalgia will become the most beautiful pain you'll ever have.

Like books drenched in time,

The scents, the Auburn colored pages,

All dazzles in your mind.

And for a moment, 

It was there,

Then it's gone...

Again.

 And I've got beautiful stories to tell...

But most of them remain untold. 

All these beautiful stories... 

Will it make it sense,

If they aren't shared?

 Was it bravery or fearlessness

That strong people do?

Because sometimes, strong people are just too strong to even feel their emotions.

And maybe, They are just too strong that they can even block the feelings.

Sad and Sweet

 And it's sad and sweet...

But what if I wrote you a love song?
One carried gently through generations.
Like a folk song on a child’s lips,
Echoing in the memories of old men.
Whispered from one lifetime to the next,
A melody everyone will unknowingly hum,
A tune that trembles on the tongues of those who can no longer remember why it even makes them ache.

And if a thousand years should fade,
In lives reborn and lived again.
After a reincarnation or two,
When its notes find you,
In some distant place and unfamiliar time,
Where my name no longer exists,
Will your heart pause
To recognizing a love it once held?
Soft as a memory you can’t quite remember.
Will you tremble just a little and ask why it leaves a shadow in your chest?
Will you feel that it was meant for you?
Will you know that every verse was written for you?
From the remnants of a love that refused to die?

Of Poetries and Letters, Left Unsent

 Poetry is but a letter

Left unsent to whom it is addressed.

So it whispers to the wandering winds,

Hoping they will carry its words

To the very ears for whom they were meant.

Captured Arbitrarily

 

To all the women, make this statement louder. Let it cross borders and echo across communities until it helps create a world that is safer, fairer, and more respectful for all.

And to those who believe that vulgar jokes and degrading comments are marks of masculinity—know this: such behavior does not elevate you. It only reveals the poverty of respect and character behind it.

I will use every platform available to me and will continue to stand firm, tall, unwavering, and resolute, in support of women and children everywhere.

 

Just Randoms

For all things are designed but in random.