Today I burn.
I burn with intensity of love and what not.
I evaporate in the silence,
I am written in words.
Then I become the very hands
That tears apart the pages filled.
I die as I cry, I love as I die.
I scroll down, I read, I cry and I love.
I sit in the early morning silence, when most have left for work and the remaining have yet to stir. So, here I make the most of the tranquil surrounding that hardly come by. Revelation after revelation dawns upon me, as the words echo in the stillness, shattering and sustaining the peace. It’s brilliant how two opposites can exist in harmony. But that’s not for now to ponder about. This is how I feel. Thoughts are bombarded at me; explosions take place in the quiet aura around me. There is too much to ponder over, flipping, one after the other in a sort of comfortable misery. They die down, they rise. They exist and they perish. They flicker like a candle, varying in intensity. Yet they all make sense somehow even in the chaos that is them.
It’s been almost five hours since I’ve been sitting here. I only got up once to see if there were any clouds in the sky. There were none. However, that did not cause me any disappointment today. So I sat back down in the company of silence, chocolate, thoughts and poetry.
Poetry, I always just wrote it. I started writing only because my younger sister used to write. Somewhere in the middle it became who I am. And I had never really read much apart from mine and her. I used to skip the poetry session in the magazines to read the stories. Somehow, somewhere, I found poetry, I found solace. I read it in papers, I read it on blogs, I read it in books. And then there were people who introduced me to some beautiful poetry by some incredible writers (Thank you). I read. I loved. And today as I sat before my laptop, nibbling on the chocolate I bought yesterday and reading these amazing works of poetry I somehow knew how to appreciate it, cherish it and find the hidden meanings in their folds. I related. I saved them and I quoted them and formed verses of my own and wrote them.
It was me, today; sitting in between and unseen mess, my mind incoherent to most, my chaotic thoughts invisible to all, typing and clicking, with an idiotic grin, sometimes a half smile regardless of how shattered some of the poetry left me. This was I, today, realizing and learning and loving.