Little Unfair

Long long time ago, in the winning world, a dreamer stepped out of the pond filled with happiness spilling the lores on the floor just like that. He had one thing to come out of, and to make the people believe that ‘it’ really exists! 

Smilingly‚Äč he kept on going, the ashes made his feet burn, the sun kept tearing his head down and his heart sinking in the dust. Still he went on, to fill the list of his own; to find another happiness in town. His model of action had no failure, unknowingly he remained stiff against the world. Not doing out of someone’s saying or someone’s order but to fulfil his own self and to never question why did he actually stepped out…
One may say he’s the man, he may find something one day. One may say he’s hard man to get, he’s out of reach.
One may even affront to his mediocrity. 

At least one should have stood in the front on his, asking what’s he upto? One must have been surprised to realise what makes such a commitment go further than life, isn’t it? 

Lots of words in play, and his journey now stands still on the pavement of a known. He doesn’t hesitates to relate affinity in souls. He doesn’t fail to openly confess. Now what he begs on to know the other side of the story, to know what stands behind the door; what makes up curiosity take the breath out. It seems like it may set him free if he realizes. Chemically, the other world shall be answering. 

In the darker walks of life, when he shouts for where he came from, what journey he is on, and now where he paused to. Of the people who play, the lives of themselves as well as the others, what shall put an end to these everlasting strong moron beings? They have adequately learnt to adapt to the situation. 

He leaves a mark on the dying sun in an unfairer dusk playing games to end towards an everlasting tunnel of darkness. It shall be suffocating it seems, he thinks but no wonder if anyone won’t ever ask where did he went. 

What was his story

Seems a little unfair!

A Few Good Men

Enough said for the world, it’s the time to yield positivity for us! 

So, yes we aspire to be the perfect version of ourselves at all times. Not completely over our pride but on our overall looks too. The world seems to realise our importance by the way we dress and how we flaunt our biceps and triceps. Yes, we see a better future for ourselves and in the music of present we sing the song of other’s beauty and fell no short for appraising the same. Time for us is a validity to get things done. We want more of it just in the case of success, but it passes just like a blow of air in the spineless atmosphere. 

We are truly confused in our own senses as to we fail to truly understand what’s the other side of the story. It may be about the other sex, the background plot of some mischievous activity that happened to be in our work environment or to realise what could be a better aspect of doing something. It just that we cannot fully understand but can make a newer version of understanding things. This makes a plenty of misinterpreted happenings around the world a little less confusing. 

We admire trust and commitment. We put our stakes on anything that makes us feel confident about ourselves and just in case we fail, we don’t lose heart. We explore the possibility of losing at a larger scale than to lose at nothing. After all, death is also a loss of life for us. And yes, this doesn’t makes us less emotional. We feel and take people’s words just equally carefully as the other sex do. We sometimes just don’t bother to shred off our decency. 

So, yes this is who we are. What we seem to believe in is just a mystery. Like a lake water waiting to meet the sea, similarly we wait and work to keep on going towards what seems legit to us. We can’t stop, we won’t stop. And just to make sure that success comes to us, we keep consistent. And to let you know, the world isn’t a business deal for us, we are open to tear our heart out for those who deserve to hear our story. 

And yes, there are a few Good men who understand atleast themselves….

Way I Sound

Way I sound close and near, so calm,

Way world heard and narrated, so loud.

The show want me to say hard, and speak,

Let freedom set trends big and clear.

Not easily composed the time, it went questioning,

Again and again, those limits strained.

Limitless close to fear and dared to hate,

Life went short and high in meanings.

Not was my way nor did I say it should be,

But it flowed and never paused.

I set trends, one after the another,

It was me, all in me, all unclear.

Now I stepped into the world so new,

That millions words won’t enough be.

Straight road I murmur, it will see,

An end, a winner and a reward all clear.

Maybe, The End of Everything?

Suppose, we finish. 

We let our eyes go easy into darkness, like we just don’t care anymore. 

We think nothing, do nothing and expect nothing. 
Maybe, that’s what life has offered us or maybe it’s the outcome of what we invested in life. Maybe. 

Beginnings are auspicious, life breezes from the air coming out of gifted blower. We stand and keep on breathing the infinite loop of happiness. Being silent and calm, because we don’t need anything, anymore is the ultimate solution to everything. Try finding out and you won’t get anything. Don’t try and think of trying. Try and done. Boo….

Maybe, we don’t hear things, we don’t speak and we don’t appear as a human. As if all calls are answered because their ring for your number doesn’t work. It’s melodious to hear their voice, but they will give on the toll of your humility. Heart seeks out the heights of stupidity, the days of failure has come. What would you do? Maybe… Something! 

You laugh like you just don’t care. You keep on moving even it’s the storm, your feet are slipping and you have a real aim. 
You are wrong, you shouldn’t keep worrying about the future. Every essence of the present must be felt. Even if the world is gone, the earth is your place no more, you must breath. Wonder, if anyone can fill his lungs in space… 

The voices are annoying but you are happy you are able to tell the story. Maybe, this be something? Many of these humans paved a way through this. This real hit be the greatest hit in the heart you would get? You begin composing the bleeding heart? 

You will tell but no one will listen. That’s what we have to care. That’s what they need to hear. That’s what they want from us. This be the reflection of what we are….

So, yea it’s okay! Everything’s fine. It’s normal. 

Maybe? You sure? 

Well, sure, you are not. Boo…..

A Moral Recollection

It’s not easy but wise to revisit a memoire. Whilst staring at what did really happened, apart from bringing mystical goosebumps, one could hardly refrain from a little known fact that it was you behind but ahead of everything. 

Explore with the me, how I lead a little stage of my life and how I see it fading forcibly in breeze of a new time that’s on the way! 

Things began with an oblivion, while lifting my brown eyes before a summertime sunrise and having a beautiful fear of what’s coming up next. I had to move to a place I have never been to, in addition to the fact that I have to be there for few years to come. I got to learn my predecessors might have learnt, so fulfilling the promise of leading was lurking on my head. 

With a little of something I believe I had, I reached where every face was a painting coming out of dark colors in a brighter place. In a room full of people already leading a conversation, I asked the designated leader to let me in. The voices were a first to me ear and I admit for someone like me, it was a gift. For more of summer days coming up, I borrowed from the new people the essence of living a life, in a better way I must say. The ones that had the capacity to hold the thoughts I possess, went on to be my friends. Those who don’t, disagreed to be my competitors! So, living up and down and still waging neutral proved to be rather enjoyable. Where heading into newer horizons is a blessing, I seem to shower into blessings with every mornings coming! Because I remember in the crescent memory, how I let myself explore the real me and how I come to see this world so wild and free.

Everything I once had was forgotten, but for a little while until I knew that was all a dream. 

A dream is something that knows no begin and no end just as life is it to us. That was life, a breathing hope at all times. Even a bad hope, for god’s sake! I can’t say how it was meant to be a dream, I just made it a dream and I fail to make one after years that happened to come. I’m into something I believed was closer to fiction, and it seems to be closing down without a clear sense of what to happen next, without a full stop

I swirled around the world and informed no one what I’m onto. That seems to be a mistake the economists call business. When into the real world trade of emotions, one can hardly emit positivity before the world seem ending. It’s not what we strive for, not what we dream and atleast not what we deserve. When hope is a damage to the society, positivity an evil and being human, a disgrace. 

Why I term it as a Moral Recollection is what that makes me feel the real steal. It’s what you make you out of you and still keep of longing that you were never you what you really wanted to be. What this ‘real you’ was I think I shall never be able to understand. But I do possess the decency to oppose the authority of destiny. It is on its own reasons to peel off the me out of myself, the little possession I share along with being decent. 

Is it? Yes, it is!

I’m more like a coming on straight to issues that pushes us back a lot, diminishes ourselves and let’s us feel bad about ourselves in often times. 
Inspired by what I’m going to say in this pretty screenshot, it exclaims how brimmed our world is. Its full of poor, rich or mediocre people, people who nothing nothing, or people who at smart arts or people who are just living, things that exists, or is inexistent or waiting to exist, ideas that have become law, or ideas that mean nothing or the ideas that are about to come or events or emotions or values or everything that’s delightful to pay attention to, get compiled and be presented in a nicer way.  
These ages, these pages and these stages, why do anyone need them anymore? An insufficient question to diring need of the hour, or maybe the perfect question the way it has to be… 
With a whole lot of people getting engaged into stuff, and with people coming the e-motions and with the e-motions coming the changes, and so far the leading efforts of everything that’s happening with no censorship, no filters and no gatekeepers, how are we so equipped in doing in what we are doing? Where is the inspiration? How are we working on something that’s not been working out or on that that had already worked out or that’s unequivocal if it’s going to work or not? Or with still memories fading away and coming on like a seasonal change, how far are we really going to work on and still believe that’s it’s going to make an understanding? 

I think, the question is not in believing it or not. The question is not what is really going to matter or not. Or it isn’t like I’m going to get inspired with some slight change in my hormones while concerning a single idea that is motivational or it at best relates me or just it’s going to figure out what my next movement is going to be or if I shall put back my boredom, my anxiety, my enthusiasm or my Ability or anything that comes out of me and any confused blurry line of amusement or or a slight care to what I’m going to write, or what anyone is going to witness with me putting forward what I intended to do, what I’m going to do, if I concern that I’m writing about my concerns only or at last my words which are slightly trying to mould the root cause I’m trying to display. 
It ain’t about anything at last. 
Coming out of a Chaos when we reach home, we feel safe. We feel relieved because it’s how it has to be. Homes are built for sharing love, being in a family, relaxation and so on. It ain’t about a question if there should be anyone’s home or not, or what homes are about or what homes did good for you or what are you going to do with your home in any time. 
It ain’t been any question, it’s never been a commiseration for me or anybody, the only two existent sides of a life. It ain’t been anything… 
Its like nobody cares, but they do. They do because they have to, and there’s no choice whatsoever. This is how the world is built. But admires care is to what extent they have been in impact. Without this information of impact, nothing would have existed, even this blog post wouldn’t have. Or even me. 

A Story from the Storyland

For once there was no fictional land but everyone had a say. Everybody had a voice to wander in each other’s ears and believe as if they were living a life. More fiction, more plurality and more of incidents to be overlooked.

And in these circumstances breath a voice wanderer disguised as human seeking shelter like a shoot in the forests of pine trees. His motive was nothing but to survive in the shadows of life and keep on accepting and mourning over nothing.

His story was none successful, not pleasing anybody around, but he never accepted that nobody accepted him and that mistake he kept on committing. He had nobody but his shadow to share his voice and even in the eyes of beggars, he was a dirt scavenger.

Until one fine morning he denied his motive, he decided to rest and take a stroll. His decision worked magic for he was allowed to lay disguised for immortality. He was quite thereafter, quieter than silence and silent than the silence in the townhall during midnights. He was more of nothing than nothing he was before. His story of being Dumber than voiceless nothing had brought him his best silence he ever wanted and his want went nowhere farther this very time. This unsung hero in his voiceless whisper wept for being the most lonely person in the world being in the world but being notch higher in being nothing.
And what followed next was no surprise. It was misery out of everything, with his nothingness creating mist all over the place.
He was more than nothing for his life now, an adventure he thought in his mystery, for his story is untold and unsung by people of voice wanderers. Still out of the blue they prosper but never once in the blue moon they come out of where they are, hearing nothing, believing nothing and surviving for nothing.
And so the storyland goes barren…