There only remained one lesson to be learnt: Life brings you only to one crossroad time and time again. One path leads to what you know but do not want to know, the other to what you think you know and what you wish was true.
Every time you choose the later, you drown a little. Every time you choose the former, you die a little.
A/n: So folks, this is going to be my second last post on this blog. I hope you guys enjoyed my crazy thoughts. Thank you so much for reading and sharing your views too. Take care! Bless you all! 🙂
Just as the ash of one’s death gave birth to another, I was born within her drowned body. As I stared at the water that had drowned her, I wondered, “If she is not me, then who was she?”
As the water filled her lungs and the iron hands inevitably strengthened their grip around her lungs, she heaved a sigh and welcomed death. The water did not bring her to an end. Instead, it began to cleanse her insides and the spring of a new life gushed out from her soul. She was no longer drowning, she was rising. She was no longer fading into the darkness of death. Instead, the waves cradled her as she entered into an era of rebirth.
There was a white dream surrounded by black blotches.
The death of dreams is painful but nothing encompasses,
the bleeding heart that wails at a lost hope
that was hopeless since the beginning of a sad kaleidoscope:
this life with no color but black and white shards
of broken dreams that were never explored.
You stand near me from afar in a window;
the hope that surrounds the empty tears on my pillow,
resonate your hopeless aura in that silhouette framed
in a picturesque darkness of desires inflamed.
The white dreams turn into a dark red nightmare;
blood flowing out our hearts without care,
and we die a little, no screams heard,
just a passing wind, carrying broken wings, but no birds.
And I hope with a heaving heart for a lost cause,
and you move on into a new window with a new vase
that caught your eye, and I stand here deprived,
of a dream that was never meant to be strived
for or against in this world of blackness
that has no light and melts only into a pool of sad demented darkness.
A/n: Inspired by a beautiful painting I saw by Shen Wei today! Hope you enjoy!
گلِ بہاراں، چمکتا چہرا تیرا
ہنسی تیری، مسکراتا چہرا تیرا۔
کدموں کی چاپ، بھاگنا دوڑنا تیرا
شور و غل تیرا، ڈانٹ دینا میرا۔
کہاں گیا وہ زمانہ میرا؟
دنیا خالی خالی سی ہے تیرے بنا
ننھا سا فرشتہ کہاں رب سے جا ملا۔
Just as her last breath was sucked into the tide, revelation struck her: there is no running from the inevitable, there is only embracing it.
جیسا بھی تھا دیس میرا
مٹی کی خشبو میں ماں تو تھی
کہتے تھے سب پردیس اچھا
کمی تھی تو کیا، اپنی تو تھی
وہاں کچھ نہ تھا، پر ماں تو تھی
یہاں سب کچھ بھی ہو تو کچھ نہیں
جب نہ یہ در اپنا، نہ زمیں اپنی
گویا کھو گۓ سے ہیں، نہ خبر اپنی
Her last thought – Tolerance was a slippery road.
Red and pink corals surrounded her and the fish welcomed her with their fluid choreography. However, she could not see their hospitality, because all she could feel was the water in her lungs. Drowning was the only thought that engulfed her. So she did the one thing, she should not have done: she fought the tide, she kicked and shoved against it. The tide responded, and before she knew it, she was shoved to the bottom by an enraged Aegaeon.
The tide was high and she was overtaken. There was pain and then there was darkness.
Then there was light and a world full of corals. Life surrounded her. Color engulfed her. She was transported not yet transformed.
In another life she could have been a spy, but never a thief. She got caught too easily and too quickly. The good thing was she always found out when she was caught and knew how to run away. The sad thing was she was never fast enough. The tides always caught up with her. She always drowned.
A/n: I know it is more than a few sentences, but this is an important chapter in Her Tale.
If SHE is not me,
then who was SHE?
A/n: I am doing a little experiment this week and the coming one. I am going to write a story but it will only contain one or two sentence long chapters. The title of this story is “Her Tale”.