Oblivion

If we can question, what holds us back?
If we can be now, what makes us time travel?
If we can contribute, what makes us only consume?
If we can accept, what makes us vehemently deny?
If we can appreciate, what makes us criticize?
If we can understand, what makes us complain?
If we can internalize, what makes us solely preach?
If we can choose, what makes us copy unconsciously?
If we can love, what asks us to make it conditional?
If we can reflect, what makes us live superficially?

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Constants and Variables

As far as I could see, I could peek into serenity.
As long as I could walk, I could experience familiarity.
As deep as I could talk, I could swim unfathomable seas.
As much as I could love, I could sense a surge of ecstasy.
As more as I could befriend, I met humans with my own stories.
As slow as I could breathe, I could hear time ticking ruthlessly.
As strong as I could struggle, I was still a subject to vulnerability.
As fully as I could live, I could also feel death constantly embracing me.

Awareness | Intention | Purpose

You are under surveillance
you so are being watched.
They are waiting for you
to slip up even if that be
for a very brief moment. 
So they could point at you
so they could question you
so they could have a laugh 
at your entire belief system, 
tell you that you’re hypocrite. 
So, should you be worried?
Well, not quite as much as
you think you need to be. 
Ask yourself three questions
every passing day, instead.
What am I doing? (Awareness) 
How am I doing it? (Intention)
Why am I doing it? (Purpose)

If I died tomorrow

If I died tomorrow, what would I be most remembered for?
Believe me, that is a question that I try to answer every day
thinking about the delicate fragility that tomorrow entails,
what if’s, could be’s—enshroud my thoughts occasionally,
not reminiscing the past but picturing my very last breath.

I may be remembered for the words that I mostly conveyed,
I may be remembered for my unrelenting state of calmness,
I may be remembered for efforts I made to lead myself well,
I may be remembered for the instances and people I escaped,
or, I may be forgotten from the next day of my non-existence.

It does not scare me as such. Yes! the thought of death I mean.
Nor am I scared of the uncertainty of the moments passing by,
what scares me is whether or not I’m living true to myself,
what scares me is whether or not I’m living true to my death,
the simple and single answer to which in most part is ‘yes’.

Holding Your Hand

It’s the most beautiful form of entanglement, 
which I’m not at all afraid to be involved in. 
It’s the most pristine touch I’ve experienced, 
that gently brings me to life in lows and highs. 
It’s the happiest realization that strikes me:
to be close to the one who matters the most.

Polarity

Lie comes in different colors, shapes, and sizes,
more often than not, the sweetest of the sweet
which we can only crave for and regret later on
because the sweetness has a kind of tipsy toxin.

Truth dresses blandly, sometimes it’s even naked
subjecting us to the intimidating notions of life
which we know we need to accept with courage
yet we anxiously search for that toxic escape.