I’ll think of you.

Whenever I see a tree provide comforting shade,
To a tired traveler who to her seems strange,
I’ll think of you.

I’ll think of you.

Whenever I see the wind move the dull clouds,
Away from the dazzling sun covered in its shroud,
I’ll think of you.

I’ll think of you every time around this world,
I see care and pure love,
For, all these memories of care and pure love, I have,
Are You.

Do not flatter yourself, however.

For,
Whenever I see the very tree shed its leaves,
And blame the Autumn for the consequences that weaves,
I’ll also think of you.

For,
Whenever I see the very wind bring new clouds,
And help them cast a shadow with their new shroud,
I’ll also think of you.

For,
I’ll also think of you every time around this world,
I see change and cheating,
For all these memories of change and cheating, I have,
Are also You.

Has something changed about me?
The hope that people used to take away from me, that now they offer me. Has something changed about me?

I am indubitably not the unscathed unbroken heart I used to be. I am now but minuscule pieces of it. Perhaps that is what has changed about me.
I am certainly not the overflowing river I used to be. I am now but a diminutive pond. Perhaps, that is what has changed about me.
Or perhaps that, now I am not the same person who wandered with a shield-free heart but one with fortifications of insecurities to protect it. Yes, that is certainly what has changed about me.

O them humans! How funny little creatures they all can be.
They made me set up these defenses. They didn’t admire the safe entrance and they left, behind them, my kingdom demolished and destroyed. And now when it isn’t fathomable for me to let them enter safely, they desire to infiltrate these walls? I wonder if it is because of the thrill? The rush of a successful infiltration?

O them humans! How inconsiderate little creatures they all can be.
They don't mind infiltrating a kingdom that has once already been obliterated. It seems to me,
They have no care for the residents,
No care for peace,
And certainly no care for love.
And that the only thing they have a care for is the tail of the dog. The euphoria that follows its triumphant infiltration wherever it goes.
How selfish and insensitive they all can be.

Life has come to me voluntarily and she won’t leave. She keeps me away from danger; yes, she worries about me. And when Health leaves me alone perishing in a hospital bed, she takes care of me and brings me back home; yes, she cares about me.

I wonder if she loves me.
Perhaps she does, perhaps.

Despite everything she does for me, she is not a good person.

Her memoir written by her previous lovers, reads,
“She makes a person feel loved and then leaves him out of the blue, for another person.”
“She makes her lovers feel she only belongs to them but then she goes to someone healthier.”
“She doesn't like old people. She will leave you for someone younger.”
“She is a cheater.”
“She is a cheater.”

Despite reading her memoir, I can’t let her go; yes, she’s a need and she truly loves me, maybe. And maybe she won’t leave me.

Or is it that I don’t want to let her go; is she a want? A desire? Whatever. She is important to me, and I am terrified to let her go. Yes, I won’t let her go.

I wonder if I love her too.
Perhaps I do, perhaps.

And I hope she doesn't cheat on me.

I did not beg for life,
It was nonetheless, given to me,
Against my will.

For a good number of years, however,
I lived cheerfully,
Because life’s troubles were imperceptible to me.
Then one day unexpectedly,
Poverty, Corruption, Wars, Death, and all
Other troubles of life,
Starts appearing to be conspicuous.

It felt like I have had a Third Eye all this time
That was in deep slumber,
And has now inexplicably awoken.

As I gaze at the world with my third eye,
I find myself questioning my existence.
“Why should I strive to live in such a filthy world?
A world of deception and grief.”
And as I am unable to find an answer,
I run, I run away from the question
And back towards “living cheerfully”.

Little did I know,
This superpower that has provided me
A whole new perspective of the world,
Like all superpowers, comes with a price.

It has an undying lust for cheerfulness
That, it demands from me.
It doesn’t take no for an answer,
And depletes all my reservoirs of cheerfulness,
And fails my attempt of returning to “living cheerfully”.

I try to close the recently unbuttoned eye,
To surrender the new superpower,
To refill my reservoir
But I fail miserably,
And the new superpower starts playing its other moves.

It makes me realize a fact about my life.
That I have been gifted a terrible birthday present,
That I must accept at all costs.
Hence, I rebel, “but it is my birthday, I must be able to make a choice.”
And as an act of rebellion, I ponder refuting the present.

While contemplating ending my life,
There's something that holds me back
From materializing the impression of refuting the present,
This incomprehensible feeling that,
People like to call, Hope.

What does this silly feeling of hope await?
That it does not allow me to kill myself.
For the terrible present to unfold itself,
Into something beautiful someday?

"How is that possible?"

Such is the silliness of hope
But it's a silliness of significance,
Because the silly is what,
Keeps me going.

The Power of Poetry