WHERE IS THE LOVE?

Standard

O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes!
O drooping souls whose destinies
Are fraught with fear and pain,
Ye shall be loved again.

No one is so accursed by fate,
No one is so utterly desolate,
But some heart, though unknown,
Responds unto his own.

Responds–as if with unseen wings,
An Angel touched its quivering strings;
And whispers, in its song,
“Where hast thou stayed so long?”

—An Extract from ENDYMION, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

There are great sayings with love, LOVE, as in the four lettered, much abused, much disputed, and yet, the most desperately sought for divine phenomenon in all of human history, takes quite a different course of action than most of us humans expect, like LOVE has been predestined to just magically come to us when we are actually ready for it, no matter, how hard we may need it, or how badly we have been doing in our lives for the lack of it, our one soul mate would never come to us, not even to lend a comforting hand, or shoulder to pull us back to our feet, and all that other person might know is that, they might be thinking the same thing, they don’t know their soul mate exist!

We live our lives, struggle, struggle, from the moment we open our eyes into this world, a world which seems to be ready to gobble us up and digest our entities first hand. From the moment we enter this world, we are already expected to be able to survive all the hatred, all the envy, all the hostility of a world, which had already turned bitter and indifferent towards everything beautiful and lovely. This world, where every person born is taught nothing but to suspect and hate anything different than themselves, where they too have grown up suppressing the rebellious, pure human sentiments, they had been taught to slaughter every time one resurrects to be strong enough to raise a head, where does a little babe, a foundling with absolutely no idea but to primordially crave acceptance in the society, find a chance of being any different? Where does, in a world as such, LOVE, as in the four lettered word, not in the much abused, much disputed, and yet the most sought for divine phenomenon, but in the purest, soulful and easier-than-finding-firewood-and-lighting-a-fire emotion as a chance to survive, for one to find?

The talk about soul mates is vain, since LOVE itself is not allowed a chance to survive. Soul mates may exist, but where are they when one person is dying, starving from the lack of love…? Destiny might have stored it as a happy ending for some much later time, that somehow, someday, the soul mates would stumble upon each other and happen to strike up a conversation that heals them both up, for a, perhaps, even more desperate life situation, maybe to spectate a grand entree, a grand finesse, but for some people, the present may hurt so bad, that it crosses the point of their forbearance, and drive them past the point they decide to quit. Then again, some would argue, quitting is a choice, and well, that was their destiny…they probably didn’t have a much professed soul mate, and their life was destined to end that way. Those who say this are mere puppets reared by society to mime the utilitarian mentality everyone else around them already possesses, who cannot see past the amount of courage a person required to kill himself, their state of mind infested by desperation their loneliness gave them, the futile results of all their hopes and waiting…

I would, too, probably fret, but it wouldn’t be at the person who quit, I would fret at you, DESTINY, because you are a bitch!!!

Advertisements

Solitary Strider

Standard

Somewhere along the way, I climbed upon a rock,
Probably for a better view of the world with an owl’s eyes.
Embittered and haggard, desolate and windblown, I just stared.
Wishing for death, possibly, in some deep corner of my soul,
Wondered how it would feel like, to just let everything fade away…
With an owl’s eyes and a crow’s discomfort, I remember, how I could never fit in.
Clouds rumble in the distance, lightening cracks over my head.
I can only jump ahead, let everything just fade away…
Or jump back, away from my destiny, let it drag me for a little further…
All the while I just stare at world below, swelling like sea foam,
Ready to swallow me and thrash my corpse on its rocky coasts…
I just stare from up my solitary rock, maybe not thinking and not fighting tonight.
Probably the lightning would kill me, at least the sky would open up to me,
Taking me in and out.

THE LIVING GHOSTS

Standard

The stones paved into the sidewalk, lined and lined,
Catch the light from the streetlamp’s glow for one night’s bind.
A little away from the lamp’s dwindling shade,
A fire spits, below a family’s meager day’s meal.
A transient establishment, their little tent,
Hooked to the wall of the cemetery, a pleasant fact –
Dead ghosts inside, living ghosts outside,
Does it even matter to anyone? That they are alive?
A day of struggle has just gone by, nothing quenched yet,
Their life long battle for the water and grain,
Boiling in their feeble hearth tonight, still looms ahead.
Forsaken souls, they are, whose lands were snatched away,
At the merciful almighty, God’s wrath.
No soul sympathizes, no heart melts upon their plight,
Those living ghosts, living near the cemetery!
No soul worries ov’er for once, raising no concern, should they vanish
No tent hanging by the cemetery wall, of course.
No fire, no smoke spitting into the spectre sky,
No one would think once wherever did they go, just relieved,
Nothing to mar the beautiful site for the cemetery,
Just feel glad for the dead ghosts, dead, for all of eternity.
Poor, wretched vagabonds, they were – they’re meant for this life!