The past.. and the present

4 posts down and i feel like taking them off .. even if i know there aren't many people who read my blog.. (nor do i want them 2) neither is every sentence scrutinized by journos for possible masala nor are there hopes of that ever happening unless i get murdered aarushi-style or go on a shooting spree making my blog come under the self styled sleuths' lens for a possible psychopathic streak...

Still,every word written in the past smells stale,as if it's soiled with the dust of the past.. 

The poems more so.. A poem is like a piece of art,to paint one you have to purge yourself of all the petty irrelevant unimportant  rigmarole of day to day activities and yet look beneath all that to find that common thread incessently running underneath and spinning into purposes,feelings,ideals...

Sunken,Betrayed and thrown asunder;

I climbed the highest branch to end it there

A beautiful poem etched on the leaves

It stopped me

held me enthralled

And then floated away into the mist

It's beauty had me spellbound

And all this while it had kept singing,

"I am the poem of your life,

personified I am you;

My beauty is you 

just open your eyes 

and you'll see me within you."

When i look back at every poem I've ever written,at first read it seems unintelligible.. and i can fully understand if anyone else cant understand what I've tried to say (and that perhaps is the beauty of it,it reveals itself only to those who understand.. ).. But gradually,tracing back memories.. reaching the same mental frame of mind.. being faced with the same dilemmas,the same questions,the same frustrations.. and it all begins to unfold like the opening of flower petals at dawn..

I know you're there

somewhere 

hidden perhaps

underneath figures and facts

or smothered by  tears that are rare,

though still there

or choked beneath the moments of a happy spring

or concealed under the yellow jaded autumn twigs

I know u're there

and will always be

even if it's rare

Before i stop,my last advice to myself :

You are a flowing river

that bears all it gets

And all it can take

Until the memoirs of the past 

get too heavy to bear

Then you cry tears of parting

of severing the ties

with the beautiful memories

But you flow on..

P.S. This post was meant to be prose