All philosophers true to the study will go mad some day.
But then again, it is Normal that defines Mad.

A second of solace

Down the hideous path I tread; fighting
To ward off that Darkness that chases
It overpowers me even as I try
Hard to keep myself above
The shadow it casts
Upon my dreams
Lower than dust, my dreams
Do become as (in)significant as
A grain of sand
Within my eye, filling me with anguish
Making me cry
Trudge I did, seeking to find
Solace in that whose existence I still
Am ignorant of

As I walked the path, I took
Refuge within myself
Within that they call
The mind, then a Gust hit
My haggard face and ruffled body,
Cajoling me to believe that
It is true that I’m but a feather floating
On this gust that
Takes me upon itself

I feel myself elated; lifted by
The breeze carrying me as
I go, as water
In a river, gliding, I
The feather, dip and tumble as
The wind makes me, only
To let me land in shelter safe

 Thus, I take comfort
For those few seconds while
The breeze washes over me
And leaves me be while
I open my eyes to find that
The Darkness has me,

The curve of a smile

"I am enlightened" said the Fool's smile
"I am ignorant" said that of the Wise
"You know nothing" implied the Skeptic's
"I know all" was that of the Vain
"I'm right" was seen of the Pessimist's
"Not always" replied the Optimist's
Looking at this, appeared- a smile
Another; a smirk almost
"I am happy" smiled Innocence.

Life in a festival... (again tentative)

Atop sits the elephant, wise and watchful
Father on his one side, his other
Occupied by his compassionate mother
Their neighbours, each of four hands
Look down on the world, asserting
Their greatness at the top, the beginning
A level below stood the lusty blue youth,
Rounded by the girls dancing, in merry
And joy, their eyes glowing
To his side, lay a mirror invisible
Ten in fact, each portraying in difference,
Him, in all His glory and power within
By his other side sat his wife
With her friends, each a beauty;
A power; a woman; a deity

Then came the saints; one, two, three,
On their divine way
Devotion in their hearts, wisdom in their say
And then, the mortals, a variety of them at that
A wedding, a worship, a game,
A parade to the temple came
Down below sat the merchant
His wife beside; goods all about
Gleaming smile and a belly wide
And below all were the villagers.
Dhobis; a farmer; a snake charmer on the side.
Working their lives off until they died.

And as the girl looks at her art created
Her mind wonders.
How the world is so alike her art
She watches and ponders

Another generation?

This is a very weird post. For in this post, I shall tell you people why I feel older than any of my class mates. I feel like I'm in another generation altogether.

After coming here, 4 of my class girls started going out with some guy or the other. I use the term "going out" for that is exactly what it is. They sit, talk to the guy for a week, two at the maximum, and become their girlfriends of sorts.

I am amazed how they do that. For when I got into a relationship, I got "committed". I wasn't "going out". My friends and I, then, did not "go out". We fell in love. We first talk, we fall in love and get committed to him only if we trust him and know we'll end up with  him. That ain't the case today. You find a guy. You go out, "be his girlfriend", make out and then maybe, you'll love him and he'll love you

I find that very different actually. My opinion of course. And I every time I see them I go like.." the kids these days...!!" :p

A thousand years of love

A thousand years I want to hold your hand
A thousand years of you beside me
Loving me all the way

A thousand years I want to say
I shall love you a thousand years
Come what may.

A thousand years your eyes I want to see
Thousand years within them, love
Is what I want to be

A thousand years I want to be seen
As nothing that meant to you more,
A thousand years I want to mean

A thousand years within your arms
A thousand years I want to be held
Where nothing harms

I pray, I cry, I want that with all my life
To be yours; all yours; only yours
The one to whom I belong, I ask of thee
Let my love be yours. Deny me not of this.