© 2024 Neha Kaur. All rights reserved.
Him
Shattered, he stands, evident in his demeanor.
Loneliness, a potion for some souls, A sort that self-destructs its own innocence, Replacing it with a toxic thrill, a haunting sequence.
He consumes it, a dark abyss from within, As he ages, oblivious to his inner craters. He bleeds, engulfs pain into the novel, Mindlessly drifting along, in a thoughtless sprawl.
Within the domain of wisdom, teachings reveal, A naive companion to joy, so surreal. A waltz upon the rollercoaster's delight, Abundant in insight, a journey's light.
A path of mindfulness, graced by empathy, A portal agape, words' obstruction set free. A mind expansive, like the boundless sea, Encompassing all light, untamed and free.
Barriers fade in this vast, open space, Where lessons sway in a rhythmic embrace. For in every stride, an untold tale, A naive guide to contentment, setting sail.
In the meeting place of pain and anger, Where differences collide, emotions linger. A sense of self-content amid the strife, Clarity discovered in the midst of life.
Is there an answer to my seeking heart, Or is destiny the one who plays its part? Who am I to declare my own defeat, In the tangled chaos where emotions meet?
In a state of fracture, he stands, his brokenness evident.
Solitude becomes a drug for certain souls, A variety that self-destructs its own purity, Substituting it with a perilous exhilaration.
He ingests it, akin to a dark, internal abyss. As time advances, oblivious to his inner scars, He bleeds, absorbing pain into the unknown, Navigating through existence in a mindless drift.
You are made up of all things rubble,
you are too good for this world
your pure soul awaken too young
like a bubble
you wait to pop
you wait you wait
you are too brave for this world
Shedding your old used skin, crawling,
sending your voice to the top
waiting for a sign, a reason, a purpose
you are too pure for these words
1996
Your words were a blur,
filled with a roar
your hands heavier than your heart,
I mistook your innocence for anger,
you gave me a reason to grow apart
your words they linger
and your fear still remains,
in my memories as your growing pains.
Dear, Listen to the women nearby, truly hear to fathom their tales, Suspend your own biases, absorb their words, where hidden gold trails.
Observe her shedding layers, revealing vulnerability so raw, Into the arena, she pours, surrendering to her quilted peace's draw.
Your openness creates space for her to empty her laden vessel, Carried through ages, now released, her story, a heartfelt trestle.
Treat those words as sacred, embrace her fears as your own, Empower her spirit, a shared strength, seeds sown.
Pause to appreciate her struggle, hold her with gentle might, In this moment, offer your strength, be her solace, her respite.