Hope is a
beautiful flower
Indeed, but
talking about hope and beauty have been exhausted
They took more
than their fair share of poetry, so instead I'm going to talk about
Despair
Despair
For, don't you
realize how absurd it is to describe the moon as "luminous"
Forgetting about
its hidden side which its morbid existence we nullified
Because it's a
sour to our gracious eyes
Such a typical
human thing to do, to disguise what we don't want to notice
With a mask of
fairness
We don't realize
that our excess adoration to one face
Is the root of our
rejection to its opposite
But what if we
allow the Yings and Yangs of life
To live under the
same roof
Feed them equal
portions of one's heed
So they don't have
to fight for space and provisions ?
What if we love
them like we'd love our own
And we all live
happily ever after ?
Light and darkness
Goodness and evil
Love and hatred
Hope and despair
Bravery and fear
Harmony and Chaos
These ultimate
opposites keep swinging in cycles of attraction and repulsion
Giving birth to a
cyclone of anarchy trapped in a small shell
Many a times I wake up to find myself at the center of such a storm
Which I have no recollection of penetrating
Resting in a
bubble of order, floating in the obscurity of disorder
Beholding serenity
within turmoil
The only source of
illumination is a narrow gap looking at heaven
And I'm dancing
Waltz with my thoughts
When the world is
kicking Kurobushka
I am too small, and this is too overwhelming
My little self is trembling
in terror behind I and me
Yet my knees are shaking
in excitement before the storm
Don't we all think
that they look majestic from afar ?
They induce a
shrill of awe so we don't dare to step closer
But when you can't
run away from rage; perhaps the safest place is its belly
And I'm here,
trapped in this seething stanza of contradictions
That I can't steer
towards any known direction
An emaciated
Ulysses that didn't expect all this destruction
To be born from
the flaps of her wings
Already weakened
and torn by the constant wringing
In lamentation of
her sheer insignificance
But I want you to
come hither, sir
Come closer, and
look into my eyes
Can you see mayhem
banging at the interior of my iris
Trying to escape ?
I find this
concealed madness
Terribly beautiful
Then I blink for a
split-second and I'm out of the storm
Back in my room
I look ahead and
see hanging on the wall a crude statement made of Aluminium
Observing
thespianly that "Chaos Is Beauty"
It was my 23rd
birthday gift to myself; a tradition I started years back
Making my own gifts;
though I don't quite understand what point I was trying to convey
Bending these
wires to my will, hurting my fingers in the process
As if i was trying
to define "Mien Kampf" using familiar vocabulary
Trying desperately
to twist my fate to fit into a traceable shape
Ignoring my
mentor, linking his brows whenever he passed while I was struggling
Grunting under his
nose that his line of work allows him to see all sorts of incongruities
But I doubt that
he knew what I was talking about
Esteemed Sir,
What is chaos ? What
is order ? What is ugliness ? What is beauty?
Define
contradictions
Who said ugliness
cannot be beautiful ?
And who said
excess beauty does not touch on the borders of ugliness ?
All I know, is
that I closed my eyes again
Hoping to go back
into that whirling prison
Seeking my lost
answers that I forgot to claim
And thought of the
one thing that I wanted to hear
The one echo of an
echo that got lost amid the noise of life
The most genuine
gift I could ever give to myself
Right when I was
standing at the threshold of my youth
Looking ahead, before
the monster of reality
And this string of
metaphors kept ringing in my ears
Being a walking lump of chaos is fine
Being a raucous
storm trapped in a jar is fine
Being a vest full
of scars is fine
Being sad and
broken , disarmed and shaken right before the grand battle
Is fine
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