The Tears of My Scars

I sat in the ashes, looking at the wounds that so lazily tried to metamorphose into scars, of all that was left of self imposed stabs and hurts.

I pressed each of all with grace, closing eyes, anticipating the pain that existed not. I winced at the slightest feeling, but there was no pain.

“Move out of the ashes. “
“Move out of the ashes.” a child whispered to the calm within me. But I moved not. I wanted to be there.

Then a prince came and started peeling of the dark scars one after another. In my laziness, I could only wail as every fragment detached, with every slice of fibre that he pulled.

He spoke with the wisdom engraved on stones of gold. He was meant for good, never for destruction. And it took me ages to realize that the searing pain was an illusion.

That it was all fear in a cloak of a daring demon, that my naked naivety fell at the sight of. With the teeth of iron that were but a decoy.

And as maidens sought for love on that rose filled day, I kept to myself begging for grace.

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Essence

Every bird has a name,
As every plant form and the game.
All strive to live their purpose,
They don’t sit to count every hour that fades.

Flowers flourish, wingers wake earliest,
Life thrives as the day wanes.
By night there’s bounty,
If not, all are fulfilled.

Even the waters know strife.
The fishes quit not,
In the presence of sharks and baits,
In the deep of violent oceans.

In the waves of the air,
Be strong against the wind.
As a doe browses with grace,
Be cheerful in the peace within.

In the turbulence, find a skill.
Survive when the waves bite.
Against the sharks, build on brains,
For there’s never too much of the rains.

Cast your thoughts upon the day,
Let your nights be as an episode in a series.
Let not men work while you snore,
Or life will be such a bore!

Essence

Every bird has a name,
As every plant form and the game.
All strive to live their purpose,
They don’t sit to count every hour that fades.

Flowers flourish, wingers wake earliest,
Life thrives as the day wanes.
By night there’s bounty,
If not, all are fulfilled.

Even the waters know strife.
The fishes quit not,
In the presence of sharks and baits,
In the deep of violent oceans.

In the waves of the air,
Be strong against the wind.
As a doe browses with grace,
Be cheerful in the peace within.

In the turbulence, find a skill.
Survive when the waves bite.
Against the sharks, build on brains,
For there’s never too much of the rains.

Cast your thoughts upon the day,
Let your nights be as an episode in a series.
Let not men work while you snore,
Or life will be such a bore!

Essence

Every bird has a name,
As every plant form and the game.
All strive to live their purpose,
They don’t sit to count every hour that fades.

Flowers flourish, wingers wake earliest,
Life thrives as the day wanes.
By night there’s bounty,
If not, all are fulfilled.

Even the waters know strife.
The fishes quit not,
In the presence of sharks and baits,
In the deep of violent oceans.

In the waves of the air,
Be strong against the wind.
As a doe browses with grace,
Be cheerful in the peace within.

In the turbulence, find a skill.
Survive when the waves bite.
Against the sharks, build on brains,
For there’s never too much of the rains.

Cast your thoughts upon the day,
Let your nights be as an episode in a series.
Let not men work while you snore,
Or life will be such a bore!

Letter to The Night

When no one decided that two should stay, you enforced the bonds and made sure they forgot the day. When man plans to make some coins, you go on to make sure all lie. Is it true that the darkness in you causes eyes to involuntary close lids?

Night oh night! I know for the sake of your rights, man is granted rest. For the glory of your stars, children are made and memories baked. I know a photo of you stirs minds and ignites hearts but… Why?
Do you cook evil in men too?

Being us

“Eve was playing raining sand with her sister Ses. (Raining sand is a children’s game whereby they throw sand upwards and it drops all over) In one of the throws made by Ses, some sand got into Eve’s ears and she went frying to their mother that Ses had put sand into her ears. This earned Ses some strokes of cane and a strict reprimand.”

As parents, do we do things we would not approve of in similar cases? What do you think?

The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton