Motivation

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I enjoy writing in my diary. I love my diary. But it’s difficult for me to carry it around always and, therefore, I felt I would use my phone as one for quite sometime now. But again as I am, prone to get too used-to an act which leads me to abandon it altogether, I am turning to you my dear blog to listen me rant and accept what I am to blabber. I’d be glad if you could be my diary. 

I am not going to be direct in any of my addresses to you. Whatever I write will be written in a general manner and not in a particular way. I enjoy abstractness and I am willing to keeping my writings here that way. Thank you for listening so far. Here I begin making you listen to me more…

I have a dream, in fact many dreams. Sometimes I used to think most of my dreams have been forced upon me by my family or friends. They made me think in a particular way which in turn made me formulate dreams which were nothing but their dreams for me. Such dreams have no meaning and its fruitless to follow them. Follow a dream which comes from within you, which makes you go and challenge yourself to the extremes. One can’t follow others’ dreams. That wouldn’t have the motivation needed for its accomplishment.

This makes me want to say:

My dear Motivation,
You thing of beauty
And of joy immense.
Will you be there with me in times of toil
And of utmost dissent?
Will you follow me wherever I go?
Beacuse I promise you here
To never let you go.
Even if you feel
That I am being unfaithful to you
Sometimes I just might be,
Know nonetheless that I love you too dearly
To let you just rest.
Dance within me,
Make me twirl with sleepless nights
If you may,
But promise me
That in the end you’d never
Keep yourself from me
At bay.
Because I love you too deeply
Even if you may know it not
Today.

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Alive

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There’s a charm in the chaos these days

The lights stay on and the music doesn’t change

The gaze looks beyond the motion

Beyond the obviousness of affairs

The obvious ceases to interest

And unusual ceases to caress.

Sometimes the mind doesn’t know

Pressure cooker blows

And the bucket overflows

Open eyes look for the sight unseen

And when closed witness the serene.

That’s when dreams creep in…

Into the spaces…

Spaces left untouched

Yet somehow scathed.

But the visions brighten up the voids,

Mollify the morose,

Readies the soul,

Welcoming the new days to rise.