Skip to main content

The More...


The more you hate,the more you love.
The more you forget, the more you remember.
The more you become unearthly,the more you turn earthly.
The more you doubt, the more you start to believe.
The more you try to be material,the more you become spiritual.
The more you look into peripheral, the more you go deeper.
The more you suppress, the more you express.
The more you look forward, the more you look back.
The more you try to be lonely, the more you are surrounded.
The more you try to be concrete, the more become abstract.
The more you try to be stable,the more you go insane.
The more you fix yourself, the more you wither away.
You are a flower of contradictions drooping into lonely waters.
It's difficult to be stable, but easy to go insane.
Fix the roots and face the bloody sun.

A.C

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Recognition

'Happy Women's Day ' Those three words transformed her. It changed her imperfections into Perfections. It fastened her daily Chores. It gifted a smile to her Face. It motivated her Spirits. It gave rhythm to her Heartbeats. It made her Hairs dance. It increased the sweetness of her Lullaby. It brought back the glitters in her Eyes. It was the recognition from her Husband. A.C

Dear Gretta

  Dear Gretta,     Your songs are like a poem that was long forgotten, that gives a dejavu everytime I listen to it. It  reminds me of New York City where you felt alone, where you were ditched by Dave and where you found yourself through Dan. You were never ready to compromise, you  were fully conscious of what you were doing and never doubted your own instincts. Even when you felt a connection with Dan, you helped Violet to reconnect with him, bringing out the beautiful guitarist in her, which eventually got him back to his family. Yet you smiled for being the reason behind reuniting Dan with his family, you smiled even when you knew that this would leave you all alone again. You gave yourself truly into your songs that you could not tolerate the loss of its essence, the mere commercialization of it.  You breathed music, danced and walked with it. Even when you knew that those are fleeting moments, the moments in New York City where every song in you...

Blame Me!

Blame me for not being you. For not reflecting your perceptions. For being me. For blooming the flowers of odd hues in my garden. For carrying a heart full of poetry and mind full of seasons. For being summer than spring, For being mist than rain, For listening than speaking, And for scattering than gathering. Blame me for deviating from the ideal human, Because my pursuits of happiness are different from yours. A.C