...And then there was silence

The Idea:
They say silence can be so loud that it could make you go deaf. The departure of someone special from your life leaves you with that kind of deafening silence. 

The Conclusion:
Not all wounds can heal with time and not all attempts at getting that someone special back in your life yield successful results. Sometimes you just have to wait till the end, until you become one with that silence.

…And then there was silence

The distant waves went silent,

The crowded streets went mute,

The muzzling of the leaves outside…

The soft crunching of the mud below my feet.

It was a defining moment…that one,

When silence came screaming to me! (draining out all other sounds around)

I stared into the emptiness,

For the remains of your impression,

I tried to search the wind around me

For the residues of your scent.

I felt every part of me, (felt: refers to physically feeling with hands)

For any signs of your touch.

I moved my lips but could not utter,

There were no thoughts left behind my words.

You took away…the broken pieces, 

Was left with nothing to mend… (all attempts would be futile)

Those shattered glasses…were swept away too, (complete emptiness and vacuum)

There was no place to settle… even for the dust.

And time will heal…

And time will heal…

I said to myself.

I cried, I wept,

All time did was ticked away in the stillness… (re-affirming the silence)

Until one last time…all just went silent.

In a Moment...is Life

The Idea:
Life is a collection of memories...memories made up of moments that we may cherish or moment that we may look down upon. It is our perpetual wish to be able to relive those cherished times, or to travel back in time and right the wrongs.

The Conclusion:
Life offers every moment only once and this is the basis of each human life being so unique and of a variety. What we do and how we do comes down to how we execute our plans and how we react in that brief interval which we call moment. And that in my opinion, is the basic unit of life.

In a Moment… Is Life.

It’s gone...

All that is left is a memory.

Memory of a moment

That was once alive.

Call it the beauty...

Or call it the flaw…

But isn’t this the very…

Essence of being alive?

Every moment that we plan for...

Every moment that we anticipate…

Every moment that we pack with as many thrills that we can…

Every moment… that makes us look forward to being alive.

When I turn around and look back…

It’s a whole collage –

Of distinct colors…of distinct faces; 

Of distinct sounds…of distinct voices; 

Of distinct touches…of distinct feelings; 

The more I look…the vibrant it gets!

I think to myself…what if –

What if I could rewind…

What if I could play it all back…

What if I could relive each moment…

What if I could patch the mistakes?

But the true beauty lies in the chaos –

The randomness that all the moments create…

Each moment can only be created once…

Making our life… a masterpiece. 

But “Its just a moment…” and nothing more…

A brief interval between now… and then.

But sometimes it is all that there is,

Between not being and being alive.

An Artist Illusion

The Idea:

You know sometimes in life there are times when you feel that if you had more control over your life...you could probably have done a better job at moulding it than the powers Above. You think to yourself how you would have chosen the best and how you could have ensured everything to be just right.

The conclusion:

In the end you realize that there is no perfect life....life just happens anyways...and life unfolds in the best possible manner that it can...without your knowledge or control or understanding. 

An Artist Illusion

I am not an artiste…
But if I were…
I would paint my life.

I would fill the canvas…
Pick the best palette… (palette of colors)
Each stroke would be a masterstroke.

My brushes would be of a variety…
Never wanting to run short…
I would give each color the perfect weight. (thickness of a stroke/line)

I think I’d give my life…
A glossy finish once prepared…
I want my painting, to last forever.

Should there be a frame…?
I think maybe not…
My vision should remain unrestrained.

I got my thoughts…all in place…
Now I pick up my brush…
The perfect life…will now be sketched.

The tip of my brush, now dipped in color…
Touches the canvas…but I stop…
Perfection deserves a bit of reflection. (referring to thought/thinking)

Its been since… a while…
The dot has not spread…
My flawless life is yet to begin.

My life…it turns out…
Has all the colors already…
Just… my eyes are in pursuit of the pattern.

 I am not the artiste…
That I imagined to be…
Yet my life had been… painted…already.