Chasing Sunshine

The beauty you see
All around you,
Fails to enthral,
For there is
Far too much of it,
All at once!

It is as if,
Nature,
Overcome by bias,
Decided to bestow,
All of her virtue,
On this piece of land,
Over many others.

For miles and miles,
That is all your eyes
Can take in,
The rapturous beauty,
Of the turquoise lake,
With the serene mountains
Standing guard, watching.

You can only sigh so much,
Your eyes, mind, and heart,
Are for once,
So utterly full,
That you decide,
They’ve all had quite enough,
Of all things natural,
And beautiful.

It is only later,
Much, much so,
That the vision,
Of mountains
Capped with snow,
Smiling on,
To tranquil lakes,
Return,
As a faint smile,
On your weary face,
And you breathe
That long, deep sigh,
To finally let in,
That perfect moment
Of beauty, and peace.

What was that noise?
It wasn’t the loudest,
And yet,
It was quite profound,
In the stillness
Of the cold winter night.

It dropped on me,
Instead of creeping in,
Leaving me perplexed.

Why?
The foremost query.
Followed by
How?

What was that noise?
Was it the vestige
Of something
I’ve now lost?
I’ll not know,
Will I?
And yet,
I think I’ll keep asking,
Why?

You have no friends,
You know that now.

You were slow
To latch on,
But now that you know,
“It is time”,
You decide,
To move on.

You are quiet
As you go about it,
Packing your things,
And tidying up,
The space you’ve taken
All this while.

You have regrets,
A lot of them,
Although you would
Have preferred none,
“But such is life”,
You decide,
And step out,
Beyond the threshold,
Not turning back,
To check if they line up
To see you go,
For you care no more.

The vapours emanating,
From the surface of the pool
Quite rightly named Champagne,
Are a wondrous sight –
One that will have you enthralled,
If only you can withstand,
The pungent odour,
Reminiscent,
Of high school science labs.

And if you are,
Quite the thinker,
You will let your mind wander,
And settle down –
To the depths that wonder,
Where the vapour
Rises from;
Is it the bubbling surface,
Or the depths below,
That produces
This incessant show,
Whether anyone’s watching
Or not?

And also this –
That beauty can coexist,
With a raw force
Such as is off putting,
The kind that emits,
A “keep away” signal.

There aren’t many
Who would care to draw near,
And spend a short time,
Or a long while,
In its presence
Not for them
The lure of this dichotomy
Of rough beauty,
Reeking of rotten eggs,
Despite the brilliance
Of its jagged edges.

But those that do,
Are the ones who choose,
To sit with something,
That is at once
A delight,
As it is an ache,
Of the throbbing make.

I hide.
You may think
That it’s what I like,
To hide,
In the shadows,
The milling crowds,
Or the quiet
Of the countryside.

Truth be told,
I no longer know,
If I’d like to show
Myself,
All of me,
For the world to see.

And so I hide,
Behind the hair
Falling over
My countenance,
And the black
Of my oversize jacket
So also the shades.

I hide.
It is quite simply,
The only way,
I know to live.

In waking,
In sleeping,
In walking,
In eating,
In living,
You see,
Endless possibilities,
To cease
To exist.

It is
Almost superhuman,
The effort you summon,
To resist
The pull,
Of this Pantheon.

Beyond the ether
Lies oblivion.
What if salvation,
Exists right here,
With the hurt
And the devastation?

Image Credit: Photo by Macro Mama on StockSnap

Something happened,
Between the edges,
Of knowing, and not,
Of understanding,
And its lack.

Something happened,
Although it was profound.

It escaped notice,
For far too long,
Juxtaposed as it was,
Between the edges,
In the nothingness
That exists,
Or perhaps not,
In the depths
Of a human mind,
Giving way to rot.

Image Credit: Photo by Pete Johnson on StockSnap

There is nothing
In the whole wide world
That will seemingly soothe
This festering wound.
It is filled with maggots
The very sight of them
Repulsive, disgusting.
This festering wound.
It oozes,
As if it’ll never stop,
Until life,
Frustrated from holding on
Against its will,
Gives up its hold
On the embattled shell
That holds it all –
The sunken eyes,
The festering wound,
And the ragged breath –
That fragile thread,
That would rather snap,
Than carry on,
The ebb and flow,
Of a life on the go.

Image Credit: Photo by Lalesh Aldarwish on StockSnap

The water receded,
Even before
The clouds disappeared,
Almost entirely,
From the canvas
Of the fiery sky.

The first to go dry,
Were the little falls,
And dancing streams,
Then finally, the meandering,
Lazy rivers.

But when the deep wells,
Gave up as well,
It was as if,
Earth had lost,
A valiantly fought battle,
And given in,
To the arrogant whim,
Of her scorching tormentor.

Image Credit: Photo by Bob Richards on StockSnap

And then there was pink.
Lots of it,
In many different
Shapes and sizes.

Some pink came
In fancy cupcakes,
Served at celebrations
In clubs, organizations
And institutions.

Some pink was in
Fancy lettering,
Smattered
With sparkling glitter,
On wishes,
That appeared on walls,
Real and virtual.

Some of it
Was in the attire,
Of beautiful women,
Smiling from pictures,
Celebrating,
Themselves,
And others like them.

While some of it,
Was in the shirts,
And flowing skirts,
Of water wives,
Making the trek,
For the water,
That’s tethered
To their worth.

And some of the pink,
Was in the garment
They ripped off,
To commence the torment
Of the powerless woman,
At the mercy
Of predators,
More vicious than,
A pride of hungry lion.

None of the pink,
Was in the comments,
Inked in black,
From naysayers,
And the not-feminists,
Who wondered
What the fuss
Was all about;
Why couldn’t women
Go back to when,
They served
But spoke not?

But when it was time
For the pink to shine,
They all said,
In unison,
“Happy Women’s day”,
Ad infinitum.

Image Credit: Photo by Foodie Girl on StockSnap