Never was a bright learner Nor a mediocre child A lost, hopeless romantic A dreamer, a frantic And maybe a little wild No heed for reason Science was never my passion The formulas made no sense to me How could you bind things into a fixed pattern? The whole world is an art And art is supposed to be free Free from the shackles of cause and effect Free from any kind of justification Art is what you believe Art is your imagination Art is not to be explained But experienced Maybe I think too much And I wouldn’t be surprised if you assume of me to be an idiot For my mind is a constant flow of unexplained emotions My only friends are the moon and the stars People tried to intrude in my bubble They tried to heal my scars And I always pushed them afar I found refuge in books and stories Unsolved mysteries and conspiracy theories Off to the world of witches and vampires Unknown planets and fallen empires Loony psychos and sagacious detective I’ve always looked for ways to avoid reality And the trick was always effective Now that I see things differently The real world was not doing any good for me If you wish to be truly alive To overcome your fears and lies Escapism is the key
Midnight musings Moon and mystique Stars are bright Heaven in disguise The firmament is sly Full of secrets and dreams In an unknown city of Owls and howls You seek refuge At peace, yet confused
Ink stained hands As deep as the ocean Scaling on a pale piece of paper The depth of your emotion The lights are dim Your eyes grim A labyrinth of lost souls The night consoles
Unsent letters Melting candles Fading furies Impending scandals Unedited poems Waiting to be recited To that unfaithful lover With whom a glorious future You foresighted
A void in your heart Aching to be mended Only you can heal That space, you feel Your mind wanders Finds peace in thunders As the night grows darker You realise Darkness is nothing But a light too bright You enrobe the pain You yearn to fight
I feel like I’m trapped inside this house It’s my home My family Yet, I feel it’s not somehow I am always fighting the evil inside my head I try to control, resist, oppose But the rage takes over Seems like it’s going to be like this forever And I destroy everything I see ahead
My neighbours think of me as a kind, caring women They enjoy my company But when the demon intrudes my mind I know something’s wrong with me The evil is slowly killing me
They say I’m just fine “It’s only a minor anger issue” But then they force me to take these pills Of colour blue And suddenly my mind goes numb My head spins And the world seems to fall apart Inside my teary eyes I’m engulfed in tranquillity My memory mistifies
I wake up with a throbbing head My body is sore Scratches on my arm Pain deep bore It’s the after-effects of wrath they said I remember nothing But the evil’s still haunting I sense I did something terrible I feel helpless I am miserable
It’s the incandescent glow of the moon, a thin, glimmering and sparkling veil, stretched wide into the dark firmament as if trying to embrace the despair in your heart. These stars are myrmidons of the moon, twinkling bright in the abyss, just like the tiny but glorious ray of hope that resides somewhere deep in your soul.
These celestials are your constant companions, the only genuine friends you have. They possess the power of refurbishing your conflagrated soul. They listen to you patiently when you burst into a paroxysm of vacillating emotions. They never reckon you for who and what you are.
The moon was there when you experienced love for the first time, when you stood smiling before it, lost in sweet thoughts of your lover. The moon was there, holding on to you when they broke your heart and left you sobbing, alone in the darkness. You were tucked into a serene blanket of moonlight where you didn’t have to conceal your insecurities and your flaws.
The moon turns into a luminous mirror of magic that can reflect anyone you imagine. It connects you to those far away, enables you to have long, unfiltered conversations with them. You fearlessly speak your heart out to the moon, without the anxiety of being judged.
The moon has all idiosyncrasies of a true friend for it is always there to guide you when you’re blinded by the smoke of resentment, it encourages you to ponder deep into your soul and bring out the best in you.
I hope you’re safe and restful wherever you might be. I hope now you’re far away from all the chaos and suffering this world had to inflict on you. For the gods were never in your favour, the odds were never in your favour.
This is to the most beautiful maiden of Athena’s temple, who possessed such sumptuous tresses that even Venus begrudged.
You were a faithful devotee of Athena, determined to worshipping and admiring the goddess of war and wisdom forever. You believed in her power, but the divinity never lent a hand to you. The goddess of wisdom betrayed you when you were assaulted by Poseidon in front of her in the temple, the goddess of war refused to do anything when you were screaming and begging for her help. Instead, she cursed you, she turned your beautiful locks of hair into deadly, venomous snakes, she turned your innocent eyes into a gaze that could turn living beings into lifeless stones. Athena turned you into a gorgon, she turned you into a monster.
But why? What was your fault? Was it that you were a faithful devotee of hers? Or was it that you were forcefully assaulted by the God of Sea? Your fault was that you believed Athena would help you, you trusted the goddess but she turned you down.
You were terrified. Terrified by the hideous hissing of snakes in your ears. You tried to run away from the sound, mindlessly wandering around in search of someone who could help. But no one could because as soon as you set your glance on them, they turned into a stone. Cold, hard sculpture of rock, completely drained out of life. You were utterly perplexed by what had happened. You had just been assaulted, the pain had not surpassed yet, and another wave of trauma struck you hard like a thunderbolt.
You were banished out of the city and were forced to live on an island of Sarpedon, for you were labeled as a threat to the society. You lived there with your two other gorgon sisters, taking revenge on everyone who stood a foot on your island. They won’t let you live in peace, even on a secluded island, far away from civilizations. Men kept coming across to kill you and you kept destroying them, until he came.
You see that the gods wanted you to be slain and they started conspiring against you. They sent Perseus to achieve the task, armed with all kinds of godly weapons. Zeus gave him an adamantine sword, Hades a helm of darkness to hide, Hermes lent him a pair of winged sandals to fly and Athena gave him a polished shield. Fully equipped, Perseus charged into your cave. You and your sisters were fast asleep when Perseus attacked. With the unfair assistance of all the godly items, he decapitated you.
Medusa, your story is extremely tragic. You were an incredibly courageous women. None of it was your fault. It has always been like that. There are many Medusas in this world, who are blamed and punished for a crime they never commited, who are secluded from society and tagged as monsters instead of those who assaulted them. There are many Athenas, who blame the victim and never question the assaulters.
You are a symbol, a role model for all of us to look up to. Perseus is termed as a hero but I never thought of him as a hero. You are the real hero. You will not be remembered as a dismal, snake headed monster but as a brave and courageous women, a symbol of feminism.
The intimacy and beauty of letters can never be expressed through direct messages and emails. Letters have that recherché, an enigmatic charm to them. The intensity of emotions that can be expressed through handwritten letters could never be implied through text messages.
Imagine the beauty of that pale yellow paper, a little wrinkled and frayed at the edges; the messy yet enrapturing cursive words, written in dark blue ink, encompassing the depth of the ocean into words; neatly folded and tucked into an envelope, finally sealing all the love inside with a dainty wax stamp.
These letters hold the power of expressing so much more than just a message. They are embodiments of numerous feelings; the feeling of separation, of joy, of fear, of longing, of excitement and despair. The endless and desperate wait for someone’s letter to arrive is another wonderful emotion; checking the mailbox every day and intently anticipating the mail person’s arrival, the unbearable suspense and curiosity ultimately results in making presumptions and scenarios in your head as to what secrets could those letters behold.
And finally, when the letter arrives, you are at the paramount of happiness. A letter is like a warm hug from your beloved. Not wanting to damage the letter, you delicately open it, there is this desperation to read the letter in secrecy, you consume every word as if it might be the last words you would ever hear from them. You read it over and over again with immense compassion. Then, carefully place the letter where no one else could find it.
It is crazy how an ordinary piece of paper can turn into such an intimate and precious possession for someone. We keep them close, we attach a myriad of emotions and memories to them, every word of it caresses the soul.
Oh to be a musician, a virtuoso of musical instruments; those magical entities capable of enrapturing the listener into a realm of tranquillity and solace. I have always fancied being a pianist, to let my fingers do their wild dance on the keyboard while I lose myself completely to the symphony, swaying my head to the notes of minors and majors. One of my greatest fantasies is to be playing my favourite Beethoven symphony, on a grand piano, an elegant black one. Me donning a white, dainty dress, amid a magical night, in a huge hall of a magnificent Victorian castle, standing high in the middle of a mysterious yet enchanting forest. The moon shines bright, pouring its sacred silver nectar upon the civilisation and the stars scattered across the dark firmament like sprinkled sugar, sweetens the whole atmosphere. Everything is stagnant, every activity paused, almost as if the forest, its creatures, the wind, the water, the moon and all the stars are my audience, mesmerised by the harmonies of my piano; As if I am the cynosure of the whole world.