My Literary Indulgences...

'Tis undeniably agreed, logic and reason therein, Mercilessly extinguish, even the hope of paranormal; As a man devout to reason, I cannot help but acquiesce, Reluctantly, yes, and herein is borne the dichotomy within. Agreed many a fools are ignorant, of the harmony, In duality, which science affirms on numerous occasions; But similarities end there, for science heartlessly debunks, Of afterlife, anything beyond death, an essence of eternity. The calculative mind is at peace with this nothingness, Unperturbed at the sight of countless passing into the void; But the heart, ruled by emotions, broken by untimely loss, Clings on to hope, faith, for love, companionship, forgiveness. My heart, no different, broken by loss, racked with guilt, At leaving her side, when she needed it most, thus failing, In saving her from her dismal fate, weeps, woebegone, And clings to hope, against reason having a shield built. This dissonance within is revealed, at times of bliss, Wherein the mind woul

Their meeting was preordained, inasmuch as that of two future colleagues. But they were complete strangers then, and owing it to those quantum leaps in communication, they thought perhaps a warming up before the much later rendezvous was called for. Dear xxxxxx, Destined to work together as we are, It's our prerogative that we shatter The prover bial ice, and get familiar To each other, even though presently afar. Dear yyyyyy, Succinctly you've worded my sentiments, For I too believe, that in this life, friendship Is something you can never have enough of, And this is a neat solution to that predicament. Thus began their camaraderie, penned down word by word, from the seemingly inconsequential chatter, Dear xxxxxx, Curses be to you, who devours delicacies, While I battle to stomach this unpalatable, Mishmash of vegetables, ill treated at that, For god knows these cretins know no mercies. Dear yyyyyy, Curse your own judgement, dear friend, For it is yo

My dear dear friend, for once let go The subconscious urge to visualize, For those pesky caricatures may hinder, Sensations far too powerful, I surmise. 'Tis her scent which registers first, Like the aroma which heralds of first rain, Arresting, intoxicating, addictive, euphoric, Cleansing my being of long endured pains. The sound of her laughter, falls to my ears, For eons, they had longed for this music That clear strong voice of angels, slices Through the din, making my heart tick. Her touch, gentle, kind, compassionate, As if god draped her with the finest silk, No, even silk is morbidly cold, where she Is warm, firm, comforting, not deviously slick. But 'tis her mind and soul that I crave, That which makes her truly beautiful, That which makes her understand me, And my imperfections, yet love me plentiful. My dear dear friend, do not ask me how She looks, for I cannot justifiably describe. But I'm certain she surpasses your finest Imagination, sh

Spirit. There's nothing stronger, yet nothing more delicate than one's spirit. And his spirit, took a beating every single day. Every boundary that he failed to save, every goal that he could not block, every single ask where he could not deliver, brought along with it a torrential spout of bullying, followed by round after round of mocking, ridicule and shaming. Every evening he would return home, silent, sullen, with dark clouds over eyes that should have been sparkling with happiness. Every night he would console himself that tomorrow would be a different day. But as the sun came up over his school each day, his mishaps were never quite forgotten and were aggregated, laced with malice and flung at him from every corner. He wondered at how long he would have to keep up with it, terrified, alone. One evening as he came home dejected, he found his father who had his day off, enjoying a book aloud with his mother. The sound of their laughter drew him to them, and in their arms