Skip to main content

Sunset

The life we wish to live is often not the life that we eventually get to live. 

Time passes by really fast. While the days may each groan and creak, the years themselves would hurtle by like vandals.

Before we realize, we find ourselves as old as our parents once were. Friends become rarer and the shadows from the waning sun stay longer.  We recede into ourselves and find new places to hide,  new reasons to be un-found.

We become sad in strange places in us,  places that we now don't know how to reach.  We become afraid of silences and try to fill it with noises. And then we slowly hate the noises in our minds. 

Slowly,  very slowly,  we become screen saver versions of ourselves.  The Insta Posts of our broken versions, the hurting laughing aching versions of our whatsapp statutes. 
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.
13 comments
Read more

Castles in sand under the weeping willows

I know I have been busy I have been busy digging Little pits in shifting sands By a choppy sea, and waiting For my little dreams To form puddles in my living And slowly watch its walls collapse Into itself Water to Water Sand and all Amidst the roaring of the waves And the silences Of the droopy willows Crying In the falling rain
Post a Comment
Read more

Travelers All

Not all days are the same. There are those nameless faceless ones that are born out of ennui and quickly fly into oblivion. Nothing good comes from them. All they do is burn rubber. They don't take us closer to our destination. Then there are those days when the skies open up. There is an earth scattering screech, the kind you know will give way to a loud bang. Scarred for life you limp along, again. Crying over those who died and hurting for those who refused to ride with you again, you ride, for this is the only option you have known. And then there are those rare rare fairytale days. The ones that starts off without a cause but go on to transform themselves into days of momentous impact. These are those days that leave behind magical memories. That feeble hint of a smile amidst deep furrows of pain are from days as these. Travelers in time that we are, let's pray for short burst of sunshine and a fair share of fairy tale days.
9 comments
Read more