For the strength of an illusion lies with the perceiver,
And somewhere in there we always want something better;
Whether drenched in despondence ,
Or lost in a world of abundance,
Or Filled with glory , jocund
Or Belonging to a world with a penchant,
Somewhere within we seek,
To be- I have a need to be me.
Lost in a hostile world, ever divergent-
Filled with wrath , indignant,
Profusely belligerent
and Everything seems malevolent.
Yet the simpleton within ,
Wishes to shrink ,
And believe that the world
Is as good as it claims to be,
For what is optimism,
But the hope and belief,
That bubble is the grief.
Whether blinded by sunshine,
Or lost somewhere in the quest of divine,
Or washed in a mercurial sly rain,
We close our eyes
And hope to see beyond pain-
Sometimes a prayer to ourselves,
Sometimes a dream of something better-
And when we awaken , we do stride,
A step faster , through the mist,
For unknown maybe the quest,
But we know that all is for our best.
Emotions may rise and in depression we might fall,
But we do see such beauties that we are enthralled.
Quick , we might see a star passing,
Or an insect from a larva blooming,
And the force of the stroke
Does within invoke,
Times of joyous epoch.
Dribbles of thunder,
Shots of lighting,
The merry rain crashing,
The world abandoned at large,
Smokes of the mind Now parched,
Now purged and Now dispersed.
calm and quiet,
The pseudo-horrors do tend to haunt,
Alive, lively and devilishly strong,
They try to eat and make us push
Ourselves into defeat
(Who knows what they do reap,
From such acts , so meek).
Yet the sides do change,
For the tides never remain
Nor the clouds are the same;
The more we tend to believe,
Harsher are the doubts
And more painful such bouts.
Clot they do our senses,
Block they do our wishes.
But light fast,
Appears a crack,
Maybe it is the end of
The infinite tunnel
Or it is the waters of a known channel,
Whatever it maybe,
It does start a fire,
Which burns the burnt
And does make us learn
And from there we are reborn,
Oh! the light less hours are gone!
When our spirits do rise,
Towards the heavens, candor
Wisdom flows and integrity
Of this unity, phantasmagoric
Yet constant, awakens
The presence and knowledge
And everything does make sense,
Life today is nothing but a penance
For a morrow without sorrow's presence.
The earth maybe shaken today,
Or ashen-ed by comet's tail,
But till that day, we as a race,
And me , with a human face,
Will forever gaze,
Within,
And Build our towers in the sky
And let scrapers hold the grounds
For we are as of now bound,
But a day will come around,
Where,
We will open our eyes,
See beyond the horizon
And sit in our castle's porch,
Knowing from where we rose,
That finally we reached where we chose,
Albeit the illusions and the remorse.
For the strength of an illusion lies with the perceiver,
And somewhere in there we always want something better;
The light shines the brightest
