Monsoon Memories: A note

The rain brings out the poet in any one of us.
The dripping sounds, the quiet and muffled whispers, the damp moods.
The raindrops flow gently, creating streams, so much like silent tears.


Not this time.


The wind flew fiercely. The rain splattered all over. The thunder left the world shaking in silence.
Perhaps in fear, maybe respect.


I still remember the day, as clear as yesterday.
The poem I wrote so many years ago still makes me remember.


I have always heard about how words impact one's heart.
Today, I realized that.
I read these words, and still remember the frightful thunder, the blinding flashes of light, and the howls of the wind.
Yet what I remember the most is not the Storm itself.
It was the silence that followed. The world became so still... So very still.
In that stillness I relived the words that I had jotted.
I closed the book, kept it away.
In the morning, it was taken away.
It lay, forgotten, with the numerous books I kept.


Today, I take it out with the same pride I had when I removed the dusty first edition of a well-read, well-loved book from my shelf simply to rub my hand over the beautiful lettering on the cover.

Forward & Beyond

Sometimes it takes immense courage to take the next step. The courage for it stems from inspiration sometimes and desperation the other times. What made me go forward, I cannot possibly explain. The dreams and hopes that one holds close to the heart bring out the strength to move on. Even in the darkest of times it is those simple and silly thoughts that keep us together. The fine threads of life are strong enough for any outside stress but the one shudder that your heart feels out of fear, loneliness or sadness can snap that thread with ease.

I can only hope, wish and dream so that I may find the path that I would rather choose. It is not what others think that we may take or we ourselves think we would take. The journey embarked is borne of not our needs but our dreams.

We must always, always rely on that hidden hope to propel us.

That what we dream of, wish about is what makes us reach Forward and Beyond...

About "The Way Home"

Here is one of those poems written in darkness.

.

I still remember that night.

I could see the world passing before me, and I wanted to stay away from it all.
If I tried to reach out my hand into that realm, it would disappear. That was how it felt.
It was not the rain that captured me, but the wind.

It was sweeping me away so heavily, I wondered if I would simply fly away.
The thought summoned those words that I had heard long before.

I believed them.

I believed that my wings were strong enough to cross the ocean with.

And so, I found my way home.