Posts Tagged ‘light’

And what if, it all ends in a whisper;
Frozen walls, iced words, and eyes cold?
Peace flapping it’s wings to lead the soul
To a much lighter space where exists
The emptiness for one’s stricken desire.
You are where you ought to be in life,
Or you will look at these moments someday
And laugh most like a baby in the cradle
Does when sees it’s mother who will hold.
A finger that will lead to hold it more tight
Among winds through the curtains in cold.
What point does this race make to us,
While the heart wants air to breathe
And looks so eagerly among the smiles?
We will come again to the tossed mirror
And face the questions of our conquest.
We will be born again to seek the light
When our soul would ask again to rest.

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The contours of our memories so much seek,
So much like whisper come out in blank silence.
Here are the butterflies chasing the wild swan,
Here comes the song from love’s forgotten peak.
If death be like a blanket that hides the world
Before our eyes and smell of that sweet petrichor;
There is this soul in you that will stand like cold
White, snow-dipped mountain in the darkness.

Yes, here’s the home, and that luminous page of life;
Come not draped in ignorance but with your story.
Soul to soul will whisper the same surrendered strife.
The eyes will get heavier with the tear than the being
When it drops, and waves you see in air around sing,
Everything leaves to meet everything we know in life.

Here’s the home, here’s that flame we forever seek.
Come soon, before I fly again to that love’s peak.

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What battle does this baffled baton lead
In these desolate hours for decrepit sailors’ oars?
The mutiny in a moment tests the greed
Of ours, of legends we know who still in course
Tussle their thirsty swords with ire indeed.
Let peace not preach any more, let the course
Break every intellect, to find the soul’s feed.
Live on hereafter with the same love and light,
Till our wings flutter and decide its true flight.

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Sand and stone flakes join and move fast into the eyes of time.
There is much music, the same ancient air that touched the genius.
I will not talk about the empire of gold that is dead, doesn’t rhyme
To our today, nor will pass to coming times with reason or rehearse.
It’s the same waves that touch the land of immortal art, of infinite
Life that segues through the rocks, through the music cast on stone.

There are percussions of chiseled moments, there is a known gloom,
When you stand before the Chariot of Sun with seven white horses
With wings of life, so ready for the flight and spring of life to bloom.
Sculpted emotions on these stones like a bouquet of eternal roses
Stand through the time, to reach every soul, to guide every journey.

I stand not like a saint but with infant steps, trying to feel the stone,
Feel the flakes, the wind from the sea that fills my vision and my soul.
To hear aloud the songs of my countrymen, touch the fabric of our own.
Like love, art too stands free, only eyes change and feel they hold it all.
If I could stay witness forever and tell this story to all lives that live;
This light that burns our ignorance, and endures more love to give.

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I will make way for you; I will arise and go,
Among countryside men and women;
I hear the symphony so silent, so pure.
What have I lost, and gained in this war?
I stand now with corpses here and there,
Scattered like vermillion on the floor.
I see the musician playing flute so soft,
And surreal strokes under the dead moon,
I see an old cavern with light from heaven.

I searched for gothic gods in this desert,
A woman and byzantine gold so embraced;
There is no oasis in these dreams but hurt
My heart with pain and long love laced.

A Sun as bright as if no need for a second,
A road so long as will turn a river full of tears.
I listened to the furls of the girdle so wild.
In winter this desert will be cold at night,
With no creatures but the serpent’s hiss.
I am unfolding this journey now or never,
To see what tomorrow unfolds in light.

After countless steps this journey doesn’t end,
But just changes its meaning now to mend
The woes of the soul, these occurrences so wild.
Let me stand for a while and pray my stars,
My God that has not lost hope in my tears,
And my chiselled fate from here to guide.
This odyssey will remain now on stones,
To guide all souls that has covered miles
Of agony, anguish and admired smiles.

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I stand now with the paradox of all times,
To be or not to be with measured minds,
Tattered clothes and less sold rhymes.
These men are like apparitions that move
Only in dark, ever pretending luminance.

The kings and queens are now in dreams;
The slaves pose to know more.
A malady so uncured stands and screams,
What profits the soul and more.
I will arise and go someday to the temple
Asking what mind intends and soul serves.

To have faith although is tough to test,
To render the verse is to inspire,
As this world will never listen to us.
There is joy in the game of fire,
But where will the flames rest?

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This poem is written to end the first collection of my works. It talks about the final stages of Oedipus’s life where he sees light amidst darkness and realizes nothing escapes from fate. All that is destined is nothing but the course of life and with their occurrences the journey is said to be completed. One who tries to stop it will not succeed but end at seeing the culmination of the oracle each soul is entitled for.

This small but eternal journey of mine,
Makes me feel nothing changes the twine.
I have cured plague and have moved,
I who have seen storms and sailed,
And unknown of the blood that I shine.
Let no unknown folk talk about me,
For known is the lives that lived here.
Let all stars be there to guide me,
When am gray, old and sublime.

The tale of the self is an illusion,
As each moment we lived is gone.
Those moments shall not return,
Nor shall I redo all that is undone.

The demon is in holding the meaning,
With intellect so uncured and untrue.

I still sit on this wide crossroad
Where three known roads meet.
Every soul will sit here awhile,
Then journey through tears or smile.
Great warriors have surrendered
To the fate they worshipped;
For me there is no glory ushered
In these false applauds of the world.
The answer to the sphinx is man
As the reason to the riddle is to live.
I killed both to surge into a great war.
There is no Corinth, no Thebes
But the giant solitude everywhere.
My deeds will not be pardoned,
But will stand through for measure.
In this temple of dark eloquence
Let history only follow the Light.

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