The Quest of Beauty.

All real captured in the sight of tiny eyes,
With the little mind, all set to admire the beauty.
Everything displayed the natural elegance.
Neither the glitter of gold appealed more,
Nor did the beauty of a precious gem.
The little mind lost to the cluttered sand.
Unaware of the rulez of world.

Time moved on teaching the countless facts
Of all the best that routes us to beauty.
The glimpse of sand faded in the lights of proven facts
The little mind riped with the picture of a perfect path.
A proven path that takes us to the gold.
There began the journey to explore the quest of beauty.

The perfect path has countless miles and a sign on each mile.
The rule is to pass as many miles as you can.
Every mile takes you closer to gold.
With every mile, you see gold glittering more.
As someone wisely said,there is no time to stand and stare.
The faster you run, the faster you reach the gold.

It has been long and the mind thought to rest for a while.
Placing the tire some body on the concrete seat.
Witnesssing many faces surpassing with a sense of pride in them,
Contemplations began to nurture the best that was lost.
Of all the beaches and dunes the nature has gifted.
And all the beautiful things made by mortar and glass.

I woke up and thrilled to see no paths at all.
And no signs of gold anywhere.
The perfect path was probably reaching to a town called nowhere.
With a smile, I moved on thinking about the next beautiful thing.
That can be made out of sand.
I moved on leaving behind the path.

ksheera

Let your graves explode

Deep buried but yet His soul so alive,
He sings the song of his wrecked heart in a soprano.
A song to all million's of hearts full of blood.
Here goes the song with death all around.

Eyes popped out into ever fading darkness.
Nasals stretched to hale the smell of death.
Ears magnified to hear nothing more to perfect silence.
I live in this final call of life called "Grave".

Amidst death all around, A gentle smile creeps in.
A Smile rooted recollecting the irony of life.
Everytime when i think of those moments with
blooded heart but still slept in graves.

The world witness a whole lot of crowd doing same each day.
Living in those numerous graves carved in thier minds.
An occupance of "Being great" creates a grave of "Ego"
An occupance of "counting millions" creates a grave of "numbers"

Being occupied with some creates grave in mind.
Being unoccupied creates space in mind.
Above is the transformation of complex thought process to simple truths.
I call it as the transformation from death to life.

Singing this aloud , I dive into sleep with these wishes.
Let's not die while we are alive.
Let those dead start to live.
Let all your graves explode.

Days passed and the song was sung all around.
The Creator thought of a lonely walk in a crowded street.
He heard a lot explosions with merry noises all though.
Explosions as a result of graves getting bombarded and shattered.

The toughest grave started to crack.
Something was just getting prepared to explode in the mind of creator.
Yes , The Grave.
The Grave called "Creator", The GOD.

ksheera