Pieces of my mind

A quiet evening has been scripted with all the unspoken words of lovers, painters, and poets, forcing the serene skies to compose a new song, because it could no longer listen to the tales of tragedies that so candidly overwhelmed everyone.

Everything that is never said, has already been overly sung inside the minds of those who choose not to. For silence has us knelt against our minds, like it were all a splendor of the cosmos.

These dreams about life and happiness, articulately carving our tender steps each day has us drifting through an endless space of emptiness. Oblivious to the everyday demands of life, we find ourselves walking through the same path that had us lose ourselves in the first place.

And love is beautiful, for a moment only, because no one really stays. It’s the beauty in rejection that always glows. Everyone’s attire—the heart, and the soul has already been stolen, left in nakedness at some point in time, and here we are, pretending like nothing ever happened.

Scars of the past and dreams about the future, and then the life that no longer sings. Why is it that we have forgotten to live in the present moment?

A wet shawl has been knitted to cover our crippled hearts, and a blank verse has been left to narrate each desire that ever struck, and still, we find ourselves at content because it was all somehow ‘meant to be’. O life, listed only to the luckiest—you deserve so much better, that even the stars would never be able to comprehend.

The stubbornness of each flower that ever birthed fragrance and the emotions of August when you first fell in love, is about as equal beauty can get because the meaning of living is not to find joy, but let tragedy tear us until it no longer can. And tragic are the flowers because it will wilt in just a few short days and so will love.

Everyone cries, but who is it that really weeps for someone they never even knew.

Your diaries have been filled with messy lines, but do you realize that it was you, who had to get to your lowest, in order to coin just a few words to describe each emotion that overwhelmed. And each word that ever painted, now walks away from you like it was never a part of you. O life, there it goes elegantly, pushing someone new to his limits, that you didn’t even get time to respond while you could.

The exquisite sparkle of each diamond is only as temporary as joy because grief would never let us appreciate the finery floating flawlessly around us.

To help the poor or to ‘help you’ help the poor, is as definitive as it could ever get. This heart is no longer a piece of flesh or even a poetic rock, but an addict of everything superficial.

Pointless tear and childish dream is what the world says, and it's alright because everyone would eventually show up to congratulate you when the dream becomes a reality, and tears rain in waves of joy.

So let me write, not because I can, but every word that ever touches me falls short to describe even a thing.

-Yogesh Chandra