There is a soul maker,
Lurking around every corner,
Paying attention to all around.
He is watching, what he sowed.
When the time comes, he reaps.
And what did he sow,
What else than your soul.
He plants it, waters it,
Face the light, the thunder,
the storm that plucks out the bad,
And at last who remain,
Who finds truth
He reaps at the end.
That is the soul makers truth.
Make life from life.
There’s a burden one must carry,
A sorrowful one, a dismay.
And there’s hope one must carry,
Heavier, yet blooming.
And in between the pages,
One must stay untitled,
What better way to hope,
To loose a burden,
Than by shadowing your title.
Have you tasted wine?
The wine they call friends.
Red and dark silver
Blue and black creamings
Grey and day burning,
Years old wine.
Taste it ones,
The tongue searches for more.
Yet, be addictive,
My friend,
That’s the drowning of
the being of “you”.
No doors are locked,
When you have the right key.
No hearts are broken,
Until love touch it.
And now my locks are broken,
When you lost the key to them.
It is a wonderful day today, I have to share this moment. My blog just hit 500 followers today. 500 followers! I still can’t believe I got so much following.
When I started this blog a year and a half back, I never thought I would keep up the work. I am a person who loses interest in pretty much everything very quickly. Even though I wasn’t able to post consistently, I have always tried to write whenever I find the time. Your support and kind comments made me stick to it. I was not only able to improve my writing, which I love but also to meet some lovely people around the globe.
Thank you, everyone, words can’t wholly express my feelings now. I love all of you, have a great life. Be polite, be honest and be happy. May God bless us all.
Smile.
He waited till the last person withdrew. The time was near and he can’t be late. But the people just won’t go. The storms near, why aren’t they going? He sat on the ground. While the crowd slowly walked out of the green matted field, the man stood up eagerly, “at last, “
But he saw two still standing. He walked up to them.
“Storm’s near,” he said to a gentleman with tearing eyes. The man nodded. The man moved out with a woman holding his hands.
“So here we go” the man clutched his shovel and started closing the grave. The man slowly pulled out a torn kercheif and kept it on top of the gentleman’s sons casket.
“Don’t worry boy, you will have friends here, my son sleeps a few metres from here, he is a good boy. He could use a nice company. Give this kerchief to him, when you see him. Tell him, his papa loves him.”
The man shovelled the mud into the grave like tears swelling in eyes.
I write this now,
What better way to let you know,
Than the bleeding words
And empty spaces in between.
The white page grimly crimson now.
What better way to let you know,
I have found life,
Deeper down in the mind,
When all else seem fading.
There is one, I suppose.
A fire that always burns.
I believe it was my words,
Who kept the fire going,
The words that hold my life in it.
Priority.
Keeping yours at top
Knowing there are others.
It has come to an end,
Inexplicable one for sure.
Have I not ever loved it before?
I may have, for time has gone to remember it.
The very moment has arrived,
Not a pleasant one I suppose,
But a time that nothing could replace.
Should I apologize or appreciate it?
The ending has started,
Or is it over.
But it is happening.
For time has gone to remember it.
I met a king once,
He looked majestic,
As told in tales.
He neither had a throne,
Nor a crown.
Yet he was the King,
You wish you’ve seen.
Bold and beautiful,
Fearsome yet caring.
Now I see him everyday.
All I have to do,
Is to look in the mirror.
There he stands,
The king that was born to rule.
Finding the Alchemist 