I am

I am a box shut tight

With years of secrets and too many a plight

To open you must first find the key

Its been locked far too long for memory.

I am a soul shut forever

In an air tight container

Living with nothing

Dying with everything.

I am a being with endless memory

Slipping into a daydream of my endless reverie

Fiction gives a certain sadistic pleasure

The depths of bitter truth when you cannot measure.

I am a fire burning intense

Burning away from a world of pretence

Consuming myself to give light

Turning to ashes for someone’s delight

I am a scavenger on the prowl

Rummaging through souls, I try not to foul

Hunger is an undying state

Don’t want to give up to fate.

I am a mystery even I cannot solve

Merge with me just dissolve

Victorious we will emerge

Empty as we are, complete we will be as we converge

Creator's Creation

This poem is inspired by a woman who made me realize that often despite the endless hands that we are offered , we will only ever be complete  when we look inward and let our own light shine through.

A creator is born out of another creator

And each knows not the power that lies within the other

They are sometimes born out of solidarity shining

They are sometimes born from souls seeking nothing but a worldly pining

Born with no concepts or expectations from this world on the day

She became a concept herself, expectations was one way

A one-way road with only stones greedy scavengers

To take from her the only thing she could call hers

Dignity was too expensive to buy

Trust was wasted on people who did nothing but lie

Beauty had many takers but only to exploit

Courage was giving up, it couldn’t fight

Shriveling, crumbling but still giving

Giving herself like a tree that gives itself, so selfless

She looked around for some solace

Obsessed with finding an end to these days

Stumbled upon a door, the wait did end

A voice said ‘I am your angel, a true friend’

So she shut her eyes and waited to be taken

Taken to a place where she wouldn’t feel so forsaken

‘Where were you, in the prelude?

I was an orphan with only mother solitude

To teach me what path to traverse

They tell me I do nothing right, I then met remorse’

‘As an infant I did not realize

They all seemed the same – the wise and the vice

Today it doesn’t matter I feel numb

Even with a voice, I am dumb’

‘Let there be silence! Trust this voice

You have nothing to lose, it’s your only choice’

She fell to her knees shed a tear.

The angel spoke and for the first time she felt no fear.

‘Only I know you for who you really are

You have come a long way, this far

All you have to do is Believe

Believe in me and you will receive’

‘Receive in abundance, everything that was taken away

I will protect you, you will not go astray

Stand up on your feet and dream to fly

You will be given wings to take you high’

‘Many as you don’t find me, because they don’t seek

Seek with a thirst to fight, they think they are meek

Storms will come; they will die, leaving you feeling far from whole

Let nothing touch inside, your soul

‘Where can you find me again?

When there is suffering and pain?

Come back to this door’

With that and a blinding light the voice left. She wanted more

In the door she looked into, there stood a mirror of her height

And then it happened, after these years that seemed infinite

A beautiful, divine smile

‘I am my own angel , the voice has been in me all this while’

I write, therefore I am

After backspacing what I want to type here way too many times I have finally decided that I will just go with the flow and write it once and for all. It comes as a shock to me that writing must be so difficult. It almost feels like I don't know a part of me anymore. Rather, a part of me I once nurtured , a part of me who contributed to my very existence , not just another hobby that I needed to practice to become better at but a burning passion which I knew I was born to discover in myself...

With a hope to start a new beginning after an end that I am happy about here is my ode to that force which makes me, Me.

Weaving my insides , whether stormy or sunny / Painting a picture with words , abstract or formless / Giving a chance for this little being inside of me to come out and scream out to the world what it wanted to...

It was you...

Illuminating. My path first, with the power of showing me light in places that I thought were filled with darkness. Spreading the light , to other travelers , nomads , gypsies, seekers. . .

In a world where I embraced solitude and deemed it my only true companion, you silently held me and gave me company without me realizing it...

Every time I read a poem by another poet I almost could feel the rush that she / he might have been in while writing it, the ecstasy of finishing it and reading it a million times again to see if you have channelized the surge that was oozing out of you into those carriers you had to carefully choose from without letting synonyms feel bad but keeping the meaning intact...

You taught me that after I just trusted in you when I felt a high or a low , and gave in to you, I would find my answers to questions or questions to answers that I am not satisfied with...

Freeze. When moments lapse and memories are born, I know I could freeze it the way it was and make it my memoir that I know might catch dust, but will not be forgotten and can be searched for under piles of books, inside hidden diaries with cute locks that most times didn't serve purpose...

Fiction. You let me dive into fantasies that I could only think of in a utopian dream. Bring them to life, and convince the myself and anyone who read it, that it happened.

I know I have buried you deep inside me. I know you must ache to come out. I know you have tried. It is occasional now. You have become a hidden part of me that only I knew once existed...

So I write, to wake you up. To let you know that, I have missed you dearly and that without you i am completely incomplete. Without you I have faced the storms of my life with no shield because I did not reach out to you. Without you I have almost forgotten how happiness feels. 

So take me back. Believe in me. Words of my soul, I hope you hear me.

I write, therefore I am.