love oneself

Etching On.


Etching Patterns of thoughts on the papyrus of our mundane lives..

Designs we croon into the ear of our twin incarnation..

Curved stretches curbing across the mounts..the will, the wish..

Binding with the harsh breath..mellow at times.. juggling at times..

Strolling across to plot a breathless life..


Stumble over potholes dug by our own soles, Hasn’t thee rolled over, traced back, and strutted along then?

Yet the path of etched drawls back and forth scuttering on..

Inking on.. smug.. or giggly.. dreadful or greedy.. smiling through the blots of ink..

In hope in faith.. for trusting to be bound by fate.. we etch on..


A kind samaritan spinning the fate.. whispering incantations to string fate to wish..

A mildly fulfilled soul springs along.. sketching butterflies..

And yet then. droplets of pain blotch the ink just along the curve..


Words lack depth one might say.. as the heart fails to siphon strings of syllables

Wishing to only tell stories of memorable cons, fortitudes.. innocence and love..

How often has thy samaritan hidden in the cave of doubt?

How often does thee ponder of ways to escape the designs?

Trapped in thy own breath, memories and desires..?


Or did the benign fisherman row thee  across?

I think he did.. didn’t he?

Anew bridge..anew sketch..

Anew binding of faith and thee etches on..


P.S- Random thoughts, random sketch as I try to drown myself in something mundane.




Categories: amibiguity, answers, art, blogging, courage, darkness, DREAMS, emotions, expressions, freedom, fun, HOPE, life, living, loss, love, love oneself, memories, poetry, poetry on life, poetry on love, soul, strength, struggle, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Cocoon of Freedom

Do you become what you hate?

Do you become what you love?

Or do you only love what you can’t become?

Or do you love only your reflection in every grain of sand?

What we carve our souls into, is already a mould,

It has thorns, it has nails, and it leeches onto the images our eyes clasp onto,

Every crisp notion of existence I have was a haze before,

It lay stale, rotting in the fungus that was fed to my mind,

At a time when the world I fathomed to exist, existed in only patterns of right and wrong,

And I chose to clutch the trailing thoughts of others,

I stuttered to express what I did not understand,

 I raveled myself in which I bludgeoned myself to believe,  


 A ferry waited at the end of my dying stammering self,

One fateful night I met the night guard at the bank,

He asked me if I wanted to crossover then, morning the ferry would be gone,

I collected the shattered pieces of my mind; some jagged ends bled my soul,

On the way I tripped on the tightly laced shoes,

 Then left them near the old tree from where hung ragged clothes, masks and shoes,

Barefoot, I got onto the ferry and set off to the other side,

To find missing pieces of my mind,

To be in presence of those colors of light,

 As the beams passed by my soul, images under the veiled reality would form,

Focusing from infinity to a my finite existence, a surreal view,

Yet an existence where my soul could breathe and could trace the waves,

The curved turbulence that sounded the hymns and curses sung by own mind,

Mindlessness was a destructive interference of rays trapped in a cottage,

 Walls camouflaged by words scripted by others,

I burnt it down, but the fire still crackles, smoke still blows in the wind,


A rusted bridge, a path appears every fortnight,

 A path back to the village of my dying thoughts,

Though much gibberish, mutters my mind, and obscure images, see my eyes,

I shan’t climb that bridge,

Heart is a nomad, but it resides in this land now,

Though tormented by the unknown, it is enlightened,

 But the ground is slippery, is cracked and heated, feet are sore and blistered, and nights are chilly,

Yet the solitude is comforting,

 As my fixation with my baffling shell of infinite reality is my cocoon of freedom.


Categories: change, darkness, emotions, expressions, life, love, love oneself, memories, mindset, poetry, poetry on life, questions, re-incarnation, soul, the mind, time | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

To my Dear Sweetheart

To my dear sweetheart,

You are sweet indeed, I am sure, but many a flavor twist and turn your primal taste,

I crave to know your compositions,you are music is uncanny,forever pushing, then swaying me as I stand at the edge,

Are you fickle, or is that just your pretentious sheath, trying to tumble me as I stamp my own feet?

But you are me, why would you do that ?oh my sweetheart, enlighten my being today,

I search your depths, I seek answers from you for the wise old owl you are,

Are you as wise as I make you out to be?  I vouch for you, you know that,

But hope, you haven’t joined hands with a third, ally you think it is?

No my sweet, destiny is elusive, a trap, an ally or foe, I know not,

Colluding with a power above both of us, you and me are one,

We create karma, thy power, my will and trust, but the third animal, hath no stakes in our karma,

Lets not invite or give space to that invader,

As I skim, then scan, then delve deeper harrowing the depths, braving my fears,

Yes,my fears,as I wade through the sand, it all comes together behind me,the sun shines no more,as I lie beneath the desert,

I ask you, what are you capable of? Are you capable of love? Do you understand love?

I ask you, how do you reign you devils, how do you recognize them, how do you accept them for what they are?

I ask you again, love,can you really love another? Or do you seek to only fill the pores, satiate your desires, then call it love,

Don’t you find solitude alluring? Its serene charm awakening voices of truth,

Sounds that were before lost in the cacophony of mindless babbling of a world decked in self made garments of lies,

Adorned by jewels that reflect the masks we put on, the paths we carved for other’s minds,artifacts of our orderly lives,

The white noise dissipates, a foghorn that slowly drives away and silence of solitude permeates,

Yet, you pursue to posses another, You see, having glimpsed your weak spots I try to leash you,

Remind you of the debacle, the toxic potion in the chalice,

That tempts one into loosing any sense of self, stagnating self nourishment,

As I search for the point of equilibrium, It strikes me,

You need, you desire to walk in solitude with another who walks in his own,

To look into the eye and share, yet not own or be owned,

To find solace in your own self yet stroll into the Gardens of your haven holding the hand of another,

Your penchant for purpose and reason commendable,

Yet at times one might find in purposeless journeys ones purpose,

Or if not, you might see sights that enlighten your mind with both anew questions and unwound answers,

My dear sweetheart, my dear soul, I leech onto you,

To shield you lest the treacherous demons of our world wrap you in their claws,

Yet I know, it is you who are my savior, my retreat, my trustworthy ally, my cauldron of strengthening elixir.

Categories: amibiguity, emotions, expressions, life, love, love oneself, mindset, Music, places, poetry, poetry on life, silence, society, soul, the mind | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

My Book Of Dreams


My book of dreams

I have one that is stowed beneath my pillows

Pillows of need and momentary salvations

Yet my subconscious sleeps on it every moment.


It is the one,

The one for which I breathe smoke, and dry air

In adamant desire of breathing in the scent of “the path”

A path decked with petals, monuments of hope and life,


The book, its existence is the reminder,

Reminder of my purpose,

This book when lost, Leaves me barren, void,

Stranded, only hanging on the hands of the clock, tick tock


I fear its loss,

I fear its burial in the grounds of rotten cowardice,

Air drenched with the stench of stale worthlessness

And pettiness of delusional grief


Frail pages, burnt at the corners,

Illegible scribbling and scratching, rewriting of my souls whisperings,

The writing in the book blurs, like it has now

The skepticism and powerlessness of a lost soul, dissolves the ink even more


Where can I find the quill?

The quill with the memory of all that is missing,

Quill endowed with the boon of inerasable ink,

Quill that breathes life into the minuscule scriptures,


Maybe it’s hidden in between the pages,

Or maybe it’s the key to an anew cave, where I could write on stone

Engrave it and let my soul fly in and out, feed on the fervor of the aromatic cave

Or maybe it’s right here in between my fingers, awaiting my orders.


P.S-I edited one of my doodles:)

P.S- And it just sort of happened to match today’s daily prompt-Fearless Fantasies.. so I am gonna to include a Ping back! 🙂

Categories: art, change, darkness, emotions, expressions, life, love oneself, me, mindset, poetry, poetry on life, soul, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Naked Soul

Surrendering, sinking

Letting the soul succumb to its weakness

Sliding off the peripheral skin

Moving away from the consciousness,

And letting sub conscious reign the way

And letting the colors of self float into another palate,

Unsuspecting of the dark colors that could form

Reveling in the thrill of a unwonted impulses

Unknown to the corrosion of thee soul,

The bright colors, the light peaceful ones are now clouded

Letting another change self,

Graciously melting into another being,

Floating through the fear of being seen

Naked soul traverses through winding lanes

Lost in a whirlwind of tears and smiles

It sees hints of slashes and hears the shrieks

Realization dawn’s that a voice inside is dying,

It is being buried alive,

It is being shunted and is lost, the soul is blistered

Its own magical colors,

Its chameleon powers have been stolen, ripped off

Or simply dissolved and lost its essence,

It, the naked soul now silently searches for its adornments

Finding them in a corner, its voice and its fight,

It redresses and inches back,

It gathers its allies,

And chooses the colors it wants,

It distills and finds its true elements,

Clutching in its hand its sub consciousness

Tenderly nurturing it, and listening to its silent stories

Letting it heal and reform into anew self,

Surrender, the soul has learn its lesson on it

A naked soul stands naked surrendering only to self now.

Categories: amibiguity, change, emotions, expressions, life, love, love oneself, poetry, poetry on life, re-incarnation, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , | 5 Comments




Chains bind the ankles, bind the nervous impulses,

The cold steel stings the warm blooded creature,

In the eyes of the fellow mates,

She ain’t warm,

But a cold blooded sorcerer,

Love for self battles ferociously,

 Grinding to strike down the righteous thoughts of the community with sheer will,

A thriving community and yet each living being a lone soul,

Her eyes linger on the trails of the path ahead,

Which path does one choose??

A path dark or a path illuminated by non-luminous sources

A path dark she willed to choose,

As she knew in heart, the light of her soul was her company,

The blazing torch within would reveal all,

The shady and seemingly sinister corners,

The flower laden bed

But underneath, poison ivy and deadly spines.

Yet the soul marches sanguinely,

 Knowing the healing drug for all wounds her path could inflict,

The path itself would brew,

Yet as her foot touches the path chosen

The chains trap her, pulling her up, leaving her dangling,

As the path not chosen sends its demons,

Demons that hide in the shadows and blindness of its blinding light,

Pulling the chains intending to leave marks,

Ravenous and soul thirsty,

Thirsty to crush and savor the freedom of soul,

Plotting to drown the traveler in its whirlpool of delusional reality,

Yet a soul as unencumbered and as uninhibited,

As numb to the enchantment of the moonshine,

As untouched by glossy facets of our existence,

Neither fears these fiends of the other path,

Nor is pained in soul by the vicious attacks,

The marks sting, But only if she lets them,

Blinding the attackers with her own luminosity,

She buys time, trapped as she is,

Will she find her weapons to cleave the chains?

Will the winds take her side and carry her to desired path?

Trapped by servile righteousness and yet trapped by hope and will of her soul,

Trapped she is.

 Photo Credits:- “Chained soul by Darryl King” /Google

Categories: darkness, emotions, expressions, life, love oneself, mindset, Moralizing, poetry, society, the mind | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Daily Prompt:Giving self a chance

What’s the biggest chance you ever took? Did it work out? Do tell!

What happens when you loose trust in people? In a person? In the world in general?
Do you give them a chance?
Maybe you do, maybe you don’t, you might be just getting on with life!
Changing your views, becoming an atheist or maybe not!
Maybe you just don’t care and brush it aside!
But what happens when you loose trust in self? What happens when each moment you are second guessing yourself?
I gave myself a chance, a chance to prove everyday that I am not that person but I am that person,me!
I take chances of following my gut instinct because I have learnt that not doing so leads me to my pitfalls.
So, I give myself a chance everyday.
I think the biggest chance I have taken until now would be the track change in my career, following what my heart told me to do and clutching on to that one chance as though it was my elixir for life! Well, I am not disappointed. Long way to go,longer seeming trials to come but I know I will give myself all the chances because I deserve them all :-):-)

Categories: life, love oneself, me, the mind | Tags: | 2 Comments


I am a big fan of imperfection. I am not sure whether I am “not a perfectionist” but I cringe and feel restless if everything around me is perfect and I enjoy imperfections of my own (mostly) and other’s too.

Hence I chose to write on it.


We forget who we are,

We forget our beginnings,

Our humble beginnings, sculpting to evolve.

Directed by that one notion,

The notion of perfection was it?

No my dears, the notion of its better half rather,

The insatiable imperfection.

Where would we be without imperfection?

Dwelling in caves and hunting like mere animals I fear.

We derive intent from it,

And our lives are for forever riding on it,

As we steer to fulfill our cravings.

All our clouds have silver linings,

The silver lining, an enchanting view of our hope,

And a sign of imperfection in our nemesis’s.

Its imperfection that we thrive on,

And sans it life would be sans itself.

Hence the hope for forever lasting imperfection,

Hope it keeps role playing the role of the “perfect pole star”.

Categories: expressions, life, love oneself, me, mindset, poetry, poetry on life | Tags: , , | 13 Comments

Love a palpable mystery!

Love a mystery and a surreal intoxicating finding by history.

It gives and it takes and it shows its versatility always,

Enchantingly frightening love is at times, but soothing and peaceful in all its glory sometimes.

It leaves me quizzical; wondering if it is for real,

There is only one form of love that knows no betrayal,

And that is the love for oneself which I always have found to be ideal,

But if such love ever wears off, peeps out the ugly head of worse possibilities;

But let’s not get all gloomy; because we all do what we can to beat the destiny’s audacities;

If Love for self could be the cause for living;

Then you might see yourself inspiring,

Inspiring all with a contagious willingness to conquer the invincible;

So go for love, maybe by the end of your trail with life you might find this mystery to be palpable!

Categories: life, love, love oneself | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

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