This poem represents the birth of a life and it's journey into the oblivion, marred by various forces, but still rising and finding its expression in the ultimate for which it was born.
I wonder, O Wonder!
Is this really me penning,
Or the existence moulding its beauty!
Art, beyond the parallels of intellect,
Beauty, beyond physical constraints,
Ecstasy, exalted by being,
I wonder, O Wonder!
Innocence is born a laughing prophet,
Burdened with lies, O wonderous beauty!
Made to play on the lawn of misery,
Nowhere to escape, nowhere to elude,
Amidst the mist, goes somewhere missing,
I wonder if it can conceal in disguise; O Wonder!
Dark clouds haze over,
The sky is clear though,
Stars shine in the background of crowding mist,
In a constant scuffle of guilt and conscience,
I wonder, O Wonder!
Which prevails and which not?
Doubts gather, queries meet, enquiries collide,
Hapless attempts of mist,
Though cunning, conspiring; still floating,
Pay no heed: adrift, afloat,
The swinging tides too the ocean’s adventure,
Bon voyage! going into the seas of obscurity,
The Wonder stays, rescued by mystery,
I wonder! What’s the course?
Time slews, mist sneaks and stars shimmy,
The voyage is bound to be oppugned,
The decision is damned, the stars are doomed,
And the call awaits…
Few are picked apart, few chicken out,
Still some adhere; having those traits,
The existence is glad, it shines with the stars,
The voyage takes its course on empty charts,
The Wonder grows and take over mist.
I wonder if it was not true for everybody,
If they are stars, the effulgence is packed,
It might be the sequence, it might be the discipline,
Shine is their quality, flowering should be the response.
But the mist has ditches, coercion through imaginary thorns,
I wonder if the laughing ones are unloosened,
Will they sway? O Wonder!
The gods are watching, glancing through the mist,
And the mist sets the stage, gives the shapes.
The stars are dazzled, dazed by the mystery.
Oh blimey, it was the Wonder, not the shapes.
The excuses fall short, but the emotions are grappled,
One way or the other, the stars collide.
Now the doors are closed and the bolts are tight,
I wonder if they can ever rise!
Those gone; gather the dust, falter, may elate again,
The glance may not be the same,
The glimpse may not be brisk.
But the shine is still untouched, haloed by the luminance of Wonder.
The immortals of mist seem to take over,
The masks cover the faces, the cloaks veil the bodies,
And the impersonation begins.
The stars get trapped by the layers of caricature.
I wonder if the constellations will have the same beauty,
Envy seems to be the footmarks,
Fussy flicking tends to blow away the fragrance.
O Wonder! The mind seems baffled,
Either the shine retains or gets bargained.
I wonder, O wonder! How can it be lost? How can it be besieged?
The sunrise transcends the clouds, ruptures the mist,
And the voyage sublimely takes stride.
Unwavering is their focus, unbendable their stature.
No more shaking, no more trembling,
The celebration begins.
The voyage still seem directionless,
Yet joyous, Wonder yawps mellifluously.
Just the beginning, though I wonder if there could be an end.
Limitless expansion, full possibility awaits,
Awakening is the cry of the hour.
O dear Wonder! Bless those mighty, crush their pride,
They can’t overlook the prism of their dust,
But they do sacrifice, the faces are cheerful.
Do not shut them, let them float,
Though I wonder if they could fly!
The sacred and sinful gush together in the mighty stream of Wonder,
Though I doubt the impressions would hold them for long.
As they too were crowded by the mist,
Gallant they were, did not let it go in vain.
Emerging victorious was never the motion,
Innate shine of the stars can never be questioned,
The mind may cypher what was right,
But the heart sponsored the voyage.
I wonder and ponder over the culmination of events,
Was it the stars, the dust or the shine?
The mist can never know, the herd can never tell.
Let it be wonder, O wonder!
That way it regains its shine..
The day we decided to meet was one that would be remembered forever!.
A child's prayer is stolen upon crashing against an aging tree. Woes be still hear shivering heart while she takes her plight.
The best thing in this world is to become a mother and hold your baby in your arms. My this composition is depicting the feelings of a mother about how she feels once she enters her new birth as a mother and what becomes her priority thereafter..