The power of I

Let go of the myth: your best version!

You are you. Your versions are you.

What is that defines it as best?

Who sets the base against which

The versions are to be measured

And hence labeled as best?

I broke the myth.

I created it initially.

I am going to define it further

And break them again.

That is the power of I.

The boy closest to your lips

Or your soul,

The girl holding you up at

Your 4:00 am woes

The lady bearing you for 9 months

And the man raising you throughout:

None knows the I.

That is the power of I.

Crawl, rise, fall and stumble

Again

Remember the power of I.

You are the universe that

Waits to manifest itself

In you.

You are the nothingness that

Longs to awaken itself

In you.

You are.

Just.

Not below, not above.

You are just.

Feel free to rise

Blazing their eyes

With shine

They cant handle

Feel free to fall

Enriching them

With pride

They craved.

For you are you.

Each day, each time.

That is the power of I.

Saturday, May 11, 2019: 1:09 am

And there will be days

Absolutely sad.

Admist your blooming season

That one day will rip your apart.

You will be stupid AF.

Cry and hover around

With your thoughts bewildered

And your spirits loathing.

You will go crazy for that one person

Whom you are dying to meet

Crazy enough to keep thinking of them

Making calls that go all in vein

2,3,4,5,6, all in vein

You will come back and ask yourself

Why. Are. You. Doing. This. To. You self?

With no answer in return

You will cry

Ponder over why did this day came in

You were budding and the flower was

A beautiful shade

Brining within, galaxies of power

And strength.

So strong and confident, that they or their time was never a concern

So focused and aligned, that every minute was made memorable.

Today, what happened?

Can pms go that bad?

It destroys the entire space in your head

Munching it from every side and crushing it to ashes?

This is fucking crazy.

It is driving me nuts.

Have I been possessed?

Of emotions beyond my understanding

And far fetched to control.

Will I sleep over it and

Get back to the strength tomorrow

With the run in tented at 5 am

Will the ashes be flown away?

Please make that happen

You, universe.

I am sincerely demanding

And forcefully requesting

Please make that happen.

Good night.

Lost Star finds home!

I am home.

Literally and metaphorically.

Visiting home after 4 months tells me to get back to me as the original version I am supposed to be.

Story telling, poetry writing, exercising, designing my wardrobe, reading all genres, religiosity, natural remedies for beauty, calling all important relatives: all these are on my todo list today.

Have I never taken them seriously while at work?

Have I never realised their importance while not at home?

Are these not what I am really inbuilt with?

Are these not basics I am supposed to be with?

Of course, yes.

These are what we may say indigenous to me.

These are what we may say as core defining me.

Yet I missed them all.

Unintentionally at most times, deliberately at few.

Coming back to roots is literally realised when we come back to home.

I was averse travelling this weekend.

I am grateful I made this choice to push my aversion aside and come home.

I took the first step here, of finding myself.

Finding my self, one who was almost lost.

Welcome home, Sanya.

Literally and metaphorically!

21.12.2018 : birth of nothingness

As I run to the completion of 3 years in the industry, I look back to reflect how speedy the track has been. I ain’t holding back to cherish the moments, coz this time is not willing to look back, literally.

Unplanned start, at the spur of excitement and dream of catching the starts up high, I was set to mark the universe as mine.

There’s a lot to say about the zillions of minutes spent at work and home and cafes and vacation and commute, working for work.

I don’t feel the urge to look back. To hold back either. It will cost me forced efforts cherishing the ride that made me jump to dance and throw to sick while roller coasting.

Did I talk about love that happened to me during the work ? I shall stretch that to a big page to be savoured by beings, like/unlike me.

Instead I feel light today. Probability accorded to intermittent fasting since few days.

Rather, I feel nothingness today. Credit accorded to distinct meditation I experienced a night before.

The urge of bodily sense lure me to disturb the both. Let go of sanity. It has no use in mid 20s today!

I let go of the lure.

Standing at the cusp of early and late 20s, staring at strong beautiful light originating from my metaphysical body today, I stretch my arm for a plate full of fruits, natural to my being.

24 candles with zoster

It’s been a long time since

I came here to tell how I feel

Today, Not giving the tag lines

But lessons I reveal.

Zoster, dear you brought me

The insecurities I swayed

I was proud to be me

Now look, how am I made.

#lesson 1

Emotions:

Do not let them be free

Coz they go in search

Of someone unlike me.

I set them free,

They went to him

Completely opposite to me.

I became dependent

Oh, extremely one

Tagging alone my sorrows

Yes correct, no pun.

Mom, bro, and man

I looked up to them

For my dirty hand.

Complaining, crying

And fighting

I was brutal, not lying.

Why? Did you ask?

Well, I was not me

But Struggling with mask.

Mask that I hate today

Coz now I can see who I was

And who I wish to be, on a new day.

I dont desire it to be undone

All that I sinned

Coz it is nothing that I shun.

It was a phase, zoster one

Fortunately it came to me

It’s remains are the magic

Beautiful, Known to none.

When they became eternal!

Me: mid-sized hair that parallel the shade of dull black, small double chin adding to the cuteness, eyes that speak of kindness, jawline sharp yet curvy, he fell in ecstasy.

He: sweet, serene, eyes that speak of truth, lips that demands to be savoured, cheeks tempting to be felt, I met my soul.

Me: little did I realise as he fell pray to me.
My habits, my energy, my happiness.

He: fearless and adventurous, wished to kept loose. Love did not mean long nights drives, regular dates romantic gestures or a visible shining bond to him.
He demanded to be loose. Spaced. Untamed.

She: became one. Navigating her love stream to a canal which nurtures his needs, spacing his space, loosing him free.

He: liked it. Feels better. Freedom hungs his head to fun. He is learning. Learning to love better. Learning to love that she wishes. Bub, you are a quick learner!

She: cherishes the invisible blissful bond, unknown yet deeply felt to both. She now believes in stars, aligns prayer to keep the bond eternal.

He: I love you.
She: copy paste to you.

Opening to my brutal sky!

Today I sit still to feel the chaos smashing the periphery of my heart. It is soft, yet strong.
I am sure it is nearing the ultimate bound of change my heart is longing for, but am I equipped?

The heart is.
Not mind.
My hands stretch asides to pluck the dirt off my mind. That is how I let go.

It seems to have stopped behaving as I trained. I wished, trained and glamoured it with the shining dreams I spent my days at. And I am sure it is laughing at my face, for the innocence it danced over.

I am the story being carved, and savoured by my own heart. One which is ready to let loose.

This is a task.
Longing for a soul to connect, do the task for me.

My Day Dreams

It is a strange sense of heaviness

A light felt heaviness

I did not plan it this way, did not

Plan else otherwise.

Free flow, is it?

Of what they call is the easy going

And swirling in the moments as they come.

Up and tough,

Slow and tight

Unsolicited unsound

I breathe them, calmly.

Was I planning this free flow,

Admist the fantasies, arousing

From my day dreaming.

Oh, I love them.

Such a peace!

Untamed, as I wish

Winning over all impossibilities

Wild, as I desire.

My best escape,

Quietly slip into my fantasies,

Sleeping with them

Make them a reality,

Perhaps, one day.

Can I understand?

He told me

To write

A poetry

And say what is understood.

Understood, but what?

The choices of words

And reflection of context

Was never mean to be

Understood.

My heart flows like a hidden river

Not available to the naked eye

A nude soul

Gets it all.

Or as they put

Each one came to test

Yet, none known the best.

Oh Understand, but why?

To validate the shine in river?

To examine the tides admist?

To measure the resting sea bed?

To approve the free flow?

The creator of my creation

Stamped the origin

To breathe as I wish

Fall the heights as I leap

Jump the cliffs as I desire

Rise the land as I sleep.

I told him

What is felt, is said

Poetry did not mean to misled

What is felt, is said.

Unsaid stories

What is lost

Thy is found

The midnight pleads

Feel the wound.

Flick shall flicker

And wind must blow

The moments each hour

Tastes sweet but sour.

In the swirl of

Dusk and the dawn

The magic seeps in

Magic, exuberant neon.

Oh, the makeover

Well planted the kiss

Heart hints you thy

Melancholy bliss.

The untamed

Yet planned thy be

She desired all way

We are here, smiled he.