11.1.18

Child is grown, the dream is gone.

I am in a place where I am getting answers to all the things I have been existential about in the past few years. Lets give it a number, precisely since 2012. Severe turmoil.
Usually good answers are in the question, itself. But what getting answers does is, it helps you ask the right questions. So here's to a year of asking the right questions.


a golden lining awaits
but it is often interval-ed
silver plumes inked in royal purple
maybe what evades
is just a shade you lack

Paint yourself in hues, dear  child
midnight, sunrise and wild
if adversity belies
you still have the universe
in your eyes

what do you seek
and what is sought after
is not but an afterthought
of lacking misdemeanor

repeat good behavior
till its habitual epiphany
time kills pain
and everything else;
matter(s)

don't run amok
spread your winds and fly
but it takes time to take off
before you can soar

wings are nothing
but fingertips
and impulses
raw finesses
my darling,
its all imagination
and darkness
sparked in the still womb
birthed
waiting to be shaped

Some people want to drown, are they not as adventurous as those that rise and fly?


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