They Call But I Remain.

Why is it that from darkness light looks so beautiful? And from pain, relief? Maybe this is my destiny, this hollow pit of sadness which I cannot escape, but then I think of these words, these dark letters full of sadness and they taunt me, they challenge me to come out, to escape, to fly. They call but I remain.

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Love Is All and Love Is Nothing

…a voice, a vibration, a lost soul, an unveiled destiny. Seen, unseen, known, unknown, stumbling through hazy visions of its unredeemed past, finding not what was but still is; a picture of Love. A stunning stroke on the black bare wall of its own prison and then void…Echoes making unbearable marks on the already insane mind, leaving behind a husk; nothing more.

Unprecedented order of events influences this mere husk and as a spectator to its own violation, it witnesses itself devoured in the silent sea of loneliness; and no effect of its own volition can ever stand against the mere shadow of that sea…and all this because of Love.

Tossing and jostling, this husk, on the crushing waves of the ocean of time and space, the torture never ends. Pain is no longer abhorrent but blissful, shadows do not insinuate fear but companionship.

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Every Curve On The Road

I have heard it said that life is like travelling on a worn path in the middle of a vast desert with no idea where it is going to take you. Each rough bend yields something new, something unexpected, something that can either knock you to your knees or make you throw your arms up in the air. Sometimes it is welcome and sometimes not but always…

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The Night Is More Beautiful

Moon makes faces at me for I insult it by thinking of someone else. I never thought that Moon could be this possessive. I think the phrase, “Shoot for the Moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land amongst the stars.” is funny for Moon is too possessive to let the stars have you but don’t plan on shooting yourself to the Moon; I have heard it is quite far away.

Precisely this notion, this idea of thought, this despairing vision stops us from shooting for the Moon or for the stars, for that matter. Distance is an illusion of mind, have you ever travelled in a desert? Don’t you see how never-ending it seems, don’t you feel it in your bones? The further you aim, the further you fall. Literally fall.

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The Storm and the Echoes

The storm comes with the slightest of warnings; first comes the Whisper, caressing and lovely, then comes the Wind, cold and rough, and at last the Storm awakens…

Everything leaves an echo as it creates a motion, from a heart to a soul to a body and eventually to the world. What echo leaves behind a stone…

When a heart beats, it leaves an echo and that echo leaves yet another echo and so forth this deep chain continues, ever changing and ever-lasting. Every person who enters a life, every consciousness that…

To everything there is a balance, to everything there is a contradiction. This world is a paradox, to the True Reason there is always the False One and to a sound there is always silence. Paradox upon paradox upon…

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Path

Each one of us passes through these situations however some of us win, they are victors, and they succeed not because they try to make a difference but because they are destined to. Destiny is like a child born in the middle of World War II in a small town being crushed to the ground, his mother swallowed by the inevitable while the fragile wins his life. We do say that we create our destiny but it is always there waiting for us to embrace it through a set of actions that we will make. Our every choice is towards it, no matter how much despairing or hopeful, great or petty it maybe.

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Who Are You As A Writer?

It is, no doubt, a thought that knocks the gates of every young writer’s mind that who is he? What is he? Does he even matter or not? The answers to these absurd sounding questions is not as easy to understand as it seems and even if by chance you learn their meaning, you cannot comprehending their stature and enormity…

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Ripple

The Moon had unveiled its shiny visage and the stars had lost their demeanor and to eye it seemed as if a million gems were merely blinking beside their mother’s brightly opened eye. On the darkest canvas known to creation, the Moon could be seen relishing the fruit of its own mirror extant upon the illusive bod of water. Beside the vague yet astral image of darkness, an imitation of my artless mien could be beheld. I stood on the verge of my reflection’s embrace, lost in my fruitless thoughts, when in my horizon I glimpsed a birthing ripple. Confused and restless, like me, it spread its essence to the extents of every prospect, leaving in its steps a memory of chaos and randomness, and its small prominence with courage and insistence influenced every pattern of its mother’s illustrious eminence, coercing her to embrace its chaotic manner.

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Reality

A man’s essence is so vivid and unique that it experiences both realities at the same moment; the good and the bad but only if he does not forces himself into corners on either side of the field for only an existence whose essence can face the harsh realities with a smile, is brave. The cowards can only run from the field to cower in the corners…

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Life

If a matchless flower with petals like a rainbow, so high in rareness, so unruffled, so serene, and its fragrance oh! I have no words, rises among deadly thorns; just imagine a glimpse of its beauty alone, its very imagination freshens my eyes as I rise up each morn and see it blooming besides me, longing to be it, to have that rareness, and one day I ask how? How to be you? And it answers…

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