The Walk to Freedom

I fear now, to come out of the chains that hitherto bound me. The feel of the metal link upon my arm has lingered for so long that I have begun to believe that that is the natural state of things.

I fear the natural uncertainties that define life, the choices that have, so far been made for me by someone who used me.. a someone who cared nothing for me, yes but yet, I fear facing them alone. I fear stepping out into the world, for, over time, I had trained myself into finding security in the arms that crushed a tiny portion of me each time. Such is the power of the venom of getting used, I suppose.

I carry the beating of my heart to step into a world I have seen forever but haven't known at all. It is a welcome fear, I see now, as I walk towards the light. A fear I should've had beside this excitement that fills me, years back, when I had the choice to not walk into these chords that bind me today.

But no matter, the past seems like a hazy illusion upon the parchment of time, and the present is clearer than ever, now that my eyes are finally free to see what they wish to, sans the conditioning of the pungent stench that filled my air all these years. Who cares what the past was? I am free now, and will be, for all time to come.

To the Girl I Love

As you walk past, so does my heart,
Struck mute by the person you are,
As it moves on to walk by your side,
Leaving my forgotten self behind,

The smile you gave when you looked at me,
Has frozen my time and my thoughts and knees,
I stand, rapt, in the moment that's passed,
Letting it not move, ever into the past,

To you 'twas another man,
An admirer from that crowded clan,
Whose faces of awe you know too well,
But the pain in their hearts, can you ever tell?

You pride yourself on your humble gait,
Patting yourself for wearing this trait,
For respecting the man who loves you so,
As you move ahead, shining your glow,

Ah, you see the tip of the love I hold,
My want to shower you with comforts and gold,
You see me as a child looking up at you,
But of the saint behind, you have no clue,

You see a man gripped by anticipation vain,
To be hurt by his own love's repercussion,
You hear of his love, and you read his words,
But you shall never know what he truly feels,

He sees a maiden of beauty, yes,
But he stops not, for he sees beyond this,
Yes, I see you, a child, younger than me,
Lost in a world, shimmering in your gleam,

You tell yourself that you've done well,
But you shall never know, in truth, his heart in full,
He's in pain, yes, the one who's smitten,
But he's climbed atop you to a height unknown,

You're lost, my girl, in that world of yours,
Thinking yourself the better among us,
I smile, alone, to myself, now,
For you shall never know that I'm the better one.

Night

As the crimson sun slips beneath the horizon,
And the day fades into a dusky frown,
He rides in, the moon by his side,
Countless stars following his horse's stride,

Nightfall, they say, for the day has fallen,
But hasn't something else, instead, risen?
Lighting a strange lamp that dims the surround,
Clothing in black gowns, all around?

The world sleeps, they say, but is that true?
Are there not, creatures of the night too?
Eyes and ears wide open,
They stare into it, unflinching and firm,

There's a strangeness to these beasts nocturnal,
That stay awake through the dark hours,
They kneel, in a way, to the grandeur of the night,
Paying homage, silent, to silence's might,

Nay even men are awake in these dark hours,
Driven by a promise, or sickness or fear,
They have, then the company of a silent friend,
At whose side, there's a clear mind,

Perhaps the lack of colour in the day's wake,
Leaves nothing to reflect in the mental lake,
Carving a path through the surrounding naught,
Giving rise to great, creative thought,

It's a holy time, unlike the old say,
Hosting the silence one needs, to pray,
Giving away hours, for those who care,
Sans distraction of even the slightest kind,

And yet, to most, it's a blanket unique,
Knitted, close, by the Mother Compassionate,
To pull a little closer as we turn, cosy, within,
Lost in the comfort of sleep's realm,

But whether you're awake or sleeping,
Know this, that you're watched by the grand King,
As even the sun's clock stops its ticky wail,
All to preserve the silent prevail,
Shutting its eyes well and tight,
Letting blow the eerie night.