Burning in the Flames of Futile Love
Burning in the Flames of Futile Love
By Soumashree Mukherjee
I am sculpting my own masterpieces from those ashes in the midst of worldly dust.
I see so many eyes filled with lust, worldly pleasures, they think it to be treasure but treasure chests often lead to death where your body is fed by worms.
Do you know that even today the lies tell me stories that should have been left untold, but I find them so soothing to my soul. Stories weaved by illusions being narrated by lies to a heart which loves to wander in it’s self made fantasy world.
We take shelter in the shadow of fantasy, the world within us.
So beautiful and deep, sacred purity.
But from outside, marked with scars.
I’ve seen the moon at night while I was lying on soft grass, a beautifully weird feeling, as if I can touch it just by reaching up.
The world looks beautiful, when you are stagnant and you see the world run by so fast, like those shots in movies where the camera is fixed and the surrounding lights are moving in fast forward.
Isolation is not always a choice, sometimes it is the only option left. You never know when it happened, suddenly you find yourself being left away.
Carved wounds, designed hearts, what a sin to be committed is to fall in love.
In the numbered days of our mortal world, forever seems an attractive myth, as if we live to love forever, but in reality it all comes down to selfish needs.
Give and take is an universal rule, even love is a contract, broken when of no use.
Hate now is a purer emotion than love, I wonder if it has always been this way or is it the perk of our modern world.
Do you ever wonder how bad can the falling part be when your heart is aware of the insecurities?
Love is an illusion in a world of colours, the colours are bright enough to blind you, make you forget where you came from.
I believe in love, it is the feeling which helps me feel connected to the souls, the soul of an old park bench where I sit and my pen bleeds to colour the papers of my notebook, the soul of the tree that has seen me crying when everyone was busy writing there status on Facebook.
I know I am lost, but it is so good to be lost here where I can find myself. It’s a world where I can write down those words of pain and legacy.
The words that bled due to the pain in my heart, the tears that came out of my eyes back in the real world because of the clouds of smoke and dust that choke my lungs.
I am better here, long way I have traveled.
This beautiful parallel world is my big home, that has sheltered me through the last years. My heart has been healed by the beauty within, pure and sacred , now I’ve got nothing to lose.