Every time I feel happy,

I turn to my journal, ready to pen down my thoughts

I find it impossible to even begin

No words can rightly describe my feeling

Nor can I specify one reason that led to it

I am just happy

I realized, happiness is a state of being, not an experience

My hue radiates vibrancy and serenity

Which ought to keep you peppy and calm

It also exudes splendor and breeze

Which is empowering and rejuvenating

My fragrance occupies the space

Which gives a break from everyday fumes and burns

I add sweetness in the air through my sheer existence

Which allows you to breath a gust of clean natural scent

Detailed to the crisp outline

I am indeed a masterpiece

People flock to admire my beauty and goodness

You can be one too

#nature #beauty #behappy #kindwords #masterpiece

Back in the early days, time would pass by so fast. Everything was happening and changing rapidly. As we grow up, we go through physical changes. Thrilled for the milestone of losing a tooth and hiding it under the pillow, decorating christmas trees and hanging our socks for Santa to drop in our gifts. In school, we sit through exams and move on to the next grade, our friends keep adding, our grades would bring our parents to awarding ceremonies or parents-teachers meetings, we would stay up late cramming together with our friends, we learn to be experts in copying 101. As we step into universities, we develop maturity as we take on responsibilities and still manage to balance our academics and social life. Good or bad, things were happening, life wasn’t stagnant.

Thrill.

Today, however, life seems like a broken audio cd which had had its glorious playbacking days, but as it ages, it refuses to play the song and gets stuck beyond a certain point. Life is at a standstill. We go through the same routine every single day - some toil day and night, while others choose to work comfortably, for the same purpose of receiving a payheck by the month-end. For the working class, its harder because the paycheck bears the same figure every month, regardless of the dedication and heart put into the work. For the introverts in the working class, it’s the hardest, because we can’t be vocal, and we choose to let our work speak for ourselves. And then we see others who create ‘noises’ in order to be noticed, and in most cases they succeed in doing just that. It appears that we keep rowing, but the boat ain’t getting anywhere. Rowing becomes a habit which we do because we have to stay afloat, and no destination is in sight. We start our day pretty much on the same side, go through it and end it the same way, every single day.

Mundane.

I wander from place to place

Knitting many strings of relationships.

Some dear,

I collect them from life’s myriad phases

and I fear losing them.

Some convenient,

I build them with ease in power

and I take them for granted.

Some prickly,

I thread them by force

and I avoid them.

Some impending,

I wait for them in fervour

And I hope for them.

Some lose and others tight,

All my strings are not without knots.

Entangled with ties of emotions,

I am not indifferent.

I wander from place to place

Knitting many strings of relationships.

Untangling them is a task,

As fulfilling as liberation.

When I’m with it,

I am in a party of my own

Grooving and dancing joyfully

I celebrate.

When I’m with it,

I shed tears of despair

Expressing through its lyrics

I grieve.

When I’m with it,

I pick myself up

Boosting my morale

I hope.

Its constancy is certain

Its beauty is ageless

Its language is universal

Music, it has always been.

I sit motionless and rested,

To wake up with tremendous exhaustion,

Never have I raced at such speed,

And I know not how to cease.

You force me to travel through time,

To thread the path of a thorny yesterday,

And script a probable tomorrow,

At the expense of my present.

Oh you deceitful little entity,

Formless you may appear,

But in you is an incredible power,

Which can both construct and destruct. 

I didn't choose my name,

A word out of the twenty six letters

Was formed as my identity.

I didn't choose my home,

A tiny square of the boundless universe 

Was pinned as my homeland.

I didn't choose my family,

A pair out of billions of people 

Was named as my parents.

I didn't choose my religion,

A belief out of the many different names

Was implanted as my faith.

I didn't choose my skin color,

A certain tint of the many hues

Was defined as my race.

I didn't choose my culture,

A set of rituals out of the countless

Was taught as my ethnicity.

Am I compelled to defend all,

That which I never chose in the first place?

A painting in motion

With strokes of royal blue and a touch of purple.

Tiny specks of light scattered on the endless canvas,

Keeping the night well lit, courtesy of the silver circle.

Chilly gust of wind

Rushes out from every nook.

Roaring loud in its whisper

As it clears the debris on the street

Giant trees stand tall and brave

Branching out moist green leaves

with droplets hanging at its edge

Watering the soil one drop at a time

Silence is humming a sweet tune

That which is comparable to none

For in it lies immense serenity

The answer to all quests.

This moment I encapsulate -

For in this little, I get all.