Act of Life

Peering through the cracked holes of memories and strife, I find an abrupt rupture of involuntary heartache. The battles should be fought and forgotten, not to be buried in plain sight. But, the heart can never seem to let anything pass by it and drown in the ocean of nothingness. It wraps them around in the smoothness of its flimsy core, to be touched upon when darkness befalls and would not vacate. It clutches them delicately and makes them rest in the throbbing articulation of its Life.

Life, I wonder, is not simply comprised of desolate contentions and defeats, losses and stings, strikes and miss. It often brings along many triumphs, laughter and affections. Yet, when you look back at the time spend, the tiny specks of joy fleet by like momentary glimpses of color. While, the anguish of Life itself lingers on, dissolving in the most reluctant commutes of Life.

The road through Life is twisted and barren with occasional showers of delight. Although, happiness finds tiny holes to fill, it is the essence on which we keep dragging the tired souls. When we slide across the journey of our hearts, we never imagine we would someday be molding our beings into something beyond our realization. We let go of the things we proclaim of never pulsing without and manage to complete the emptiness inside. The time moves on neither stopping nor holding for us to catch on. The evil gripping’s of the moments torment and pass through without a back glance. In all the yearning’s, Hope is the only stronghold for us to reside comfortingly, peacefully. The lonely manifestation of the being is evident in the course of the Universe. But, the acceptance of this reality is so shroud that we keep on flapping our hands to hold on to someone in the airstream of Nature. The medal of Divinity is the spirituality we all should Hope to achieve and gain. It may be the award of the soul tainting and the strength it takes to recover it bit by bit. Although, the realization of the cravings our souls desire, takes a lifetime of conflicts within our conscience.

Our reflection shines to us brighter than the new moon. If we were ever to know the worth of our Life acts, we would entirely reform the views we once professed. I forever remain confused in the verified categorization of humans. Does the varied spiritual form require admiration regardless of its divulgence?

Wars have been brought to alter the truth of the blithe. Do we not acknowledge the trials of our souls that we make it an aim to drag others through the very same suffering! This is to say the least about the modernized literacy of our day. Our age is the age when the return of barbaric practices takes place. We find no shame to be the direct or indirect source of anyone’s multiple afflictions, so long as we can entertain the ideals of our own Life. Those mortals are naïve in principle and to the core who believe to be of greater virtue than the rest. Their actuality plumps with time. Their souls have rotten to the staple. Yet, they remain entangled in the auspiciousness of their beings.

Life is neither a mystery we believe it to be nor a battle we perceive it to be. It is simple! And beautiful.  But like all things we humans have made our job to destroy, it has been corrupted with immoral impurities. Now, picking out the conceits of our creation seems an impossibility to us. We can’t imagine succeeding in isolation now. Our Falah is in the aggregated penance and purity of humanity. And to achieve this feat, we need a miracle sooner than later or the eternal doom will be ours in this world and after.Image

 

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14 comments

    • Man is not brutal by nature, I believe. But to provide for his visions of grandeur and splendor, he becomes beastly.
      The political scenarios all around make me realise this. Firstly, it was just llimited to “higher levels”. Now, I have observed it in every home.
      Regards,

  1. I really like the question, “Does the varied spiritual form require admiration regardless of its divulgence?” Everyone puts in their two-cents in comment sections, often at the expense of ignoring the poem and the questions the poet raises. It is enough for me that every single soul shapes this collective existence they way they need to and that I will never really understand another person’s point of view except through the crude methods of communication we humans have developed. Like Keats said, “the poem you see before you is only a dim reflection of the amazing thoughts that were going through my head.” Thank you for all this food for thought, cheers!

    • It had really been enough for me as well. Every individuality needs space, respect and no bias. Though, the more I have come across people who are afflicted with the complex of superiority, the more it has made this view pungent to me. Not only this, we have stooped to such levels that being the cause of pain doesn’t hinder in the development of one’s joy as long as its effects don’t reach the said person.
      Or maybe, I am being limited in my perception, as I believe I am.
      Regards,

  2. Thanks for letting me camp out in your blog for a little while today. I had a great time and tried to leave my campsite as good as when I arrived. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks!


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