In search of Happiness

People used to ask me,

what it felt like,

to be happy.

And every time,

I was afraid to answer,

never having felt it myself.

But last night, when

I asked myself,

the same question,

I came to understand,

that happiness, after all,

is not an emotion, not really.

It’s a feeling.

Of joy, and gladness,

Of pleasure and bliss.

In all the places you visit,

and all of the people that you love,

it’s there.

Happiness, is right next to you.

Always.

Lost in translations

I’ve been meaning to get lost,

for quite some time now,

closing my eyes, thinking of absolutely nothing,

Disorienting thoughts, beliefs.

Taking long walks, alone in the night,

stirring emotions, memories.

But in the midst of all this frenzy,

what I forgot was,

how, when I met you,

my heart stopped for an instant, and

my soul came out in the open.

how, when we looked

into each other’s eyes, and said absolutely

nothing, you smiled at me,

and boy did I smile back.

And in the midst of all this frenzy,

What I forgot was,

That I’d been lost for quite some time now.

 

 

 

Strangeland

Do you remember, how we met?

Far away, in the hub of nature,

Secluded from the ordinary, unafraid.

How we sat beside each other,

Breathing softly, avoiding eye contact,

And how, you introduced yourself,

quite elated, and I, for the fool I was,

nodded to your every gesture.

 

Do you remember, what we talked about?

You told me you wanted to paint,

And how much you loved dancing,

And how, when I said you looked beautiful,

You laughed, so magically,

That I lost myself for a while, I swear.

 

Do you remember, what you promised?

Time was on hold that day,

You were just about to leave,

That is when you read my mind,

and said “Let’s meet again.”

Little did you imagine the consequences.

It’s been years now, and I’m here, still,

Waiting for you, hoping,

For another conversation.

 

Do you remember, at all?

Cause I do, darling.

I remember.

The birds, the trees, the sea;

It was our strangeland,  And we were its strangers.

 

 

 

Heartbreaks

Heartbreaks do not define you, darling. Sustenance does. People come, and people leave. That is a part of life. Sometimes, if you’re fortunate enough, you might be left with something to carry on living. But the times when you are not, when they’ve taken everything along, and you only have your poor afraid soul to live along with, then I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do. But never, at any point in your life, should you consider yourself responsible. No. You were not the one to give up and leave. No. You were not the one to come to conclusions without any coherent reason. Life is full of good and bad people, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to face the bad ones, every fucking time.

But It does get better, you know. Believe you me. This is the magic of time.

I know a broken heart when I see one. And I know that it’s hard to fix a heart that’s been moulded into bits. But do not ever let someone tell you that it can’t be healed. It can be, I swear. And if you give me time, I’ll heal it for you.

Poetry

People haunt me, they do,

With all the opinions they bawl,

Speaking of society in agony,

Imbuing us, with damaging thoughts,

Insolent, of the human emotion,

Undervaluing, the impact of words.

 

I have never been much of a speaker, really,

learning from the very beginning,

That art, regardless of the form,

Could transform beliefs, not dreamt of.

That ink lasts, for eternity as it seems,

and words, woven with perfect amount of mystique,

could caress you, like nothing else.

 

So, I hope, you find someone,

Someday, sometime,

Who touches your soul, like it has never been touched,

and whose words could spark you, in a way unstated,

That all your grief departs, and you feel content.

Because that is what it does you know, Poetry.

It heals you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m Not You

Woven with facts of measure, unearthed,

Crafted into a form, albeit imperfect,

I’ve grown into someone, unafraid,

Not knowing tomorrow, not wanting to.

I am bemused, unusual, chaotic,

Never happy, and seldom convinced.

My mind is a dark place,

Containing bleak, cruel beliefs,

Of the superficial society,

filled with wrecked bodies and shallow souls.

But when I do think, of the happier times,

I break just a little, every time,

Hoping for nothing but a miracle,

To sustain all that I had.

And now, crawling through life,

I’ve come to known, to live,

Through hardships and downfalls,

And, to suck the marrow out of life.

Yes, I might be flawed, and a little broken too,

But, at least I’m not you.

Choices

Isn’t it beautiful, the love that surrounds us?

Artistic in its measures, yet so shallow;

Through solitary moments, and traverse arguments,

We build ourselves up, pretending,

Teaching ourselves to be happy, regardless the circumstances;

Yet, here we are, bemused, chaotic,

So messed up inside our heads, failing to recognize our own selves,

Filling ourselves up with bleak, adverse thoughts,

striving to find reasons of joy.

What have we become, though, blaming society for our measures,

When it’s nobody’s fault but our own;

Because, little do we realize, the power of a decision;

And in the end, the only way out of the labyrinth,

Is not an alleged belief of never being able to escape,

But, our choices.