The silent warriors

Listen, the universe is being lifted up by the silent warriors
The ones who work even without facing the limelight–
farmers who break their backs trying to bring food on our table,
teachers who help our children find their way through life,
the working mothers and fathers,
the domestic helpers,
the care givers,
the nannies,
the firefighters,
the street cleaners,
the peace keepers,
the healers,
the listeners in this noisy world…

They remind me of the battles worth fighting,
They are the ones who are truly worth celebrating.

Another note to wall

Another chain list on your wall;
the world to self, another call.
But you loathe opening up, for fear
of ideals to be mocked, them jeer.

But for dear friends, you try to jive
in a social jungle, trying to survive;
And then you ask the need of it–
out there, is it really worth it?

The other side of you dare bends,
dancing in their tune and blends…
finding colors reaching out to you
painting a bland life, hue to hue.

Yet there are letdowns in the trying
for not all music are worth dancing;
some–those not that good for the soul,
ends as just another note on your wall.

When the light comes flooding back

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If you see yourself at the end of the road
and wondering
where to begin again…
while all around you is darkness;
What would you do
when the light comes flooding back?

The world you are in is one big messy blur
of foggy highways
you’re on your way, but where to?
Just like being trapped in an endless eerie night
stalking the dawn…
But when it comes, would you be prepared
when the light comes flooding back?

And when at last your sleep is nigh
down to nature’s bed
where every weary traveler arrives;
The reaper of the soul, when it knocks,
Would it be a welcome or a bid goodbye?
when the light comes flooding…

Silhouette people

As I go towards the sleeping state,
mental images of silhouette people
float in my head as they dance
and jump
and fly in a place
where they are completely
under the ruling of my mind.

I sleep for hours in a day,
chasing these silhouette people
Trying to catch a glimpse of faces

But they remain faceless.

And I think to myself,
what if we are just a dream
of a God in slumber?
Co-existing in a wild cosmos
of undulated dream waves,
Waiting for the waking hour
An hour of death.

The summon

I used to drown the little voice in my head

the one that tells me to go on ahead

I used to resist, with doubts unveiled

‘til the voice turned to scream and wailed

lately I can hear it loud and clear

and yet I am still paralyzed by fear

where to go when you are cornered?

by shadows of the past that hovered

I want to free myself from inhibitions

to follow my dreams and lofty ambitions

the only way towards them is forward

yet another voice summons me backward.

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