Unpoured

  Time heals, Healing not of the thought But of the sting it brings to heart. A stale sting.

A lot makes people lost. Lost in blank thoughts, Like breathing with no air. An inception of entropy, Just like living without self.

Depression is not sadness But it Is the first phase of madness. When the mind is in disturbia, It yearns crazily for darkness. In its obscure state, Light tends to become its torture.

  Sometimes, I wonder if the mind ever gets a break. If for a second, it pauses to take a breath of calmness. It moves from wonder to knowledge, from solitude to amusing memories, even to replay and alter. It even extends its reach to make the heart pound in fluttering excitement or agonizing eagerness! Oh this mind! Can you be still?! Sometimes, I wonder if the mind ever gets a break, what would happen in that split second? Would there still be colors in the darkness of lone memories? Would the wonder ever get to become insight? Yes, a replay but of what? Hmm.. ‘What’. Would the heart still pound? Imagine loosing a heart pound for a second.. definitely agonizing!! Oh this mind! Don’t be still

If only, i had a magic wand, I'd let it waver me into your space, To know how it feels, To be surrounded by your aura.

Feeling lost?  The deep sense of pure lone.  As though you're in life's transit,  Asking when you ever were. 

I feel lost, Like a dot in black holes. Far far away, I hear no more my home. Praying that someday, One day will come.