THE JOURNEY

Starting from the day we were created, evident changes have occurred in us. We evaluated from a clot of blood to whole human body within nine months. A 51 Cm body transforms to 5 feet body in the blink of an eye. The way we think, words we speak, theory of life, everything is a result of continuous fluctuations existing in our lives.

Sometimes I think about how strangely delicate and beautiful human nature is. How a simple observation or an incident can alter the whole perception of oneself. A small dance in the rain or a long drive in summer days, the glory of the day or silence of the night, a lover’s look in the eye or betrayal of a friend…everything…everything makes a difference.

We live among a cluster of people, even if we don’t talk to all of them, there is still something in common, something that keeps us connected. After realizing the connection, I also realized that it’s not just our personal situations that effect us, It’s others as-well. our fragile heart can so easily be refashioned, only by a trauma our eyes witness or a sensational conversation we hear. All of it leaves a mark deep down in our hearts or goes back into subconscious, but always remains there, always.

The combination of all the observations and neglects, inspirations and depressions, experiences and ignorance, makes our next step, next step we take towards our destination. our destination…? It’s today, It’s this moment we are living. We have come across a long way, each leaving behind a unique history, a unique story that might not be heard by many or never be written in books, but has been experienced once. These unending variations will continue to help us in continuing our JOURNEY…a journey to the person we are to today.

I dedicate this blog to everyone who feels life is rough. Let the poetry of everything touch you. Let it leave a mark on you. Let it enhance the beauty in you.

This is my first blog ever. Feel free to comment below your feedback and reviews.

I hope you all like it..

Night time wonderings

What happens to their dreams when people die?
Do they get burried too?
Or like seeds; they grow?
What happens to the tears people cry?
Do they dry like auntumn leaves?
Or like rivers and streams they always flow?
What happens to the stars in people’s eyes?
Do they ever return with the night?
Or under the sunlight they always hide?
I wonder, I wonder what happens to the dreams when people die!

The Heavy Pen

The ink has been wandering in my heart pushing itself to come out through the pen and fall on the empty paper; fall on the paper and say what it had explored inside. The ink is dark, like a night without the moon;
Or the stars.
And It smells like smoke.
Or maybe ashes.
Yes, ashes.
And ashes don’t write. They only bleed.