Musings – Virtual Marionette

March 11, 2024

Who are you? (4)

I have known you for a while!
Distant places reach out to me
Like photos in the album of my memory.
Words stuck in between pauses,
Phrases lost in translation,
The poignant sound of silence-
Remind me of a surreal ‘you’.

The waves of time hit on the shores
Of what my eyes cannot perceive.
A sharp jab of pain unnerves me.
Reality is but a knife widening the cracks
Of my delusional fantasies.
Question marks keep piling on my answers.
A never-ending battle between my needs and wants
Creates a face that resembles yours.
Who are you?
A treacherous game that never finishes,
Or a ray of hope that never diminishes?

P.S.: You might also want to have a look at the other parts of ‘Who are you?’. Check my previous posts for that.

June 21, 2022

Who are you? (3)

The eyes seek comfort
In colours that are rare:
In the greenery of what is red,
In the life of what is dead.
The symmetry in perfection
Is but a fable we wish to believe;
Unevenness, though real,
Speaks no more: brutally silenced.

Breaking the base of thoughts ingrained,
Spreading the roots of unconventional choices
Fixating on hideous truths,
Detaching from enticing lies,
Is a practice not known by many.
Different paths do not assure success.
But if it is all the same,
Who are you?

December 7, 2021

Trance

My eyes soaked in insomnia
Show me an untouched palette.
Never did I bother to know
This monochromatic existence,
Replete with fables of stoical forbearance
Of reality,
Was my only respite
From the treachery of this multihued world!
How can I complain?
Can happiness fight with its reason,
Time and again?

The colours that I see,
Paint a picture no better than yours;
There, I see you broken,
In bits and pieces, on fire burnt pages,
But I still tremble with love
When I hear your voice in silence.
How can I complain?
Can sobriety fall for inebriety,
Time and again?

November 11, 2021November 11, 2021

Chase

I thrive in unknown places,
Blinded by glaring lights,
Deafened by the clangor of regularity.
Painting your smiles in darkness,
Gives me a ruinous relief.
I burn in your absence
Secretly yet knowingly,
Tearing our old pages a thousand times,
Only to imagine us in your presence!
We are a fragmented story,
Finding our broken pieces shatters my mediocrity,
There lies my sadistic creativity.
The fog that clears my misty mind,
A dangling, mysterious question
Whose answer I will never find.
Acceptance is never a choice,
“The only place.”, reminds my inner voice.
That is why I keep walking,
Adding to the filth on mucky roads,
Hoping for a new hope,
Searching for an alternate reality,
Where we can safely elope.

June 20, 2021

Tired

March 30, 2021

Trap

In a fragile cage of reality,
A part of me is trapped.
Escaping is not easy,
The pull is stronger than my push.
Reluctance is building what impatience had destroyed;
Even the unbound realms of my mind
Now know what to avoid.

A part of me is trapped,
And that what is free,
Revolts against what I think I am.
I fear breaking this aviary
For what seems unreal is unearthly.
Stuck in this game of ‘true-untrue’,
I realize the meaning of acceptance;
All that impatience had destroyed
Are brought to life,
Rejuvenating my reluctance.

December 29, 2020

Intoxicated

Bewitched by the charm of haze,
I walk through the minutiae of a maze;
My eyes flutter in confusion,
The bizzare thoughts bring on.
The mist of my own mystery clears up;
The enigma of emptiness steals control.

Actions become drunken slaves of Purpose;
Sensibility fails to wipe the ruckus
Off my mind.
Strange it is, stranger it becomes;
Darkness goes deeper than black,
I rejoice in the colours that I lack.
I wish this moment never fades,
I hope I never see the lights again.

August 1, 2020

Reverie

What I am and what I present,

My name comes in between;

That is where the tragedy begins.

-Shreya

April 25, 2020April 25, 2020

Reflections

The face tells a beautiful story,
A fantastical lie
That reflections care to ignore.
Fairytales decompose into cheap articles
On trampled newspapers.
Society screams, people shout,
The mirror stands tall,
Notices the unnoticeable,
Predicts the unpredictable,
Surmises hidden predicaments
And chooses to put a check
On reflections,
Only for those
Who are blinded by the sins
Of their deed,
The craving of their famished souls.
Some choose to see
The enthralling beauty
And set aside the rasping truth.
The rest become the mirror themselves
With their faces made of glass
And silver coating on their hearts,
To make sure that
The reflections never reach them.