Archive for the ‘Epiphany’ Category


A Matter Of Perspective

May 10, 2010

One summer evening, lucid in sleep, I’m woken to the noise of chattering children….All of a sudden, in the darkness I’m troubled by faltering rotations of an old rattling fan, the sound of water gushing out on the floor, and the careless ticking of the clock…. The passing away of precious time. The break from my hectic, tiresome life, into my world of dreams has shattered. I lose hope of all sleep and get back and move, and that ugly feeling sinks in yet again.

We all identify with that, don’t we? The hollow feeling in the pit of the stomach, the aching heart, the burdened mind, the feeling of being mechanical, and everything good coming to an end….all leading to one conclusion, life’s tedious, it’s dragging and you’re in it alone.

However, it’s life, so it must go on, it doesn’t wait to hear, the song of the soul, steadily moves forward…Well, and so be it. I get up and move out in the open, so that all my senses wake up again, to continue work. I walk out, and hear the sound of the wind, the wind blowing against the leaves….I look up to a perfectly blue sky, and birds soaring through it, I hear the musical hum of bees, the chirping of birds and the chattering… which now seem like careless whispers of little children, their expression of the joy of life, portraying clear hearts and callous, unburdened minds. I drift back into the sands of time, and memories of my own childhood, the chattering in parks, the water fights, the picnics, the walks, all come back to me with renewed force. I leisure in my past, bask in it’s glorifying beauty, and intuitively, quietly, my eyes are filled with teardrops….. Maybe life isn’t bad after all.


The Ugly Truth

May 8, 2010

Mysterious are the ways of this world,

They make you fret and frown,

Turning the reflection of a crystal,

To a deep, murky brown.

The strength and conviction of a young girl,

Was now being put to task.

How long would she stay put,

Was something everyone asked.

Sincere, honest, rebellious and radical,

Was Ria’s way of life,

She put all immorality to task,

Even at the cost of strife.

An inspired writer, at the age of 19,

With morals standing tall,

Her works full of conviction,

Seemed to influence all.

“Ambition is good” she told herself,

But there is no hurry to succeed,

For seeds sown with honesty and trust,

Will surely good rewards reap.

She saw all her counter parts,

Rise at a steady pace,

For the “social contacts” that they had,

No talent could replace.

But young Ria’s ambition grew,

And she found it commonplace,

To talk of all the fashion fads

And the next big beauty face.

For the good or bad, we do not know

But a new column did arise,

“The Ugly Truth” as it was called

Instantly caught her eye.

She begged her editor to shift her on,

But sadly the post was long gone.

Sold to the son of a TV star,

Such were the games of money and power.

She wanted to work for the column so bad,

She couldn’t think of a thing.

Compromising on her ideals, though,

Suddenly made a bell ring.

And ambition began to take its toll,

On young Ria’s mind.

She slept with the son of the T.V. Star,

Leaving her morals behind.

Bribery, corruption, sexual abuse,

Societys’ two-faced ways,

Were brought to light by “The Ugly Truth”

Ria’s “prize” in her career’s maze.

And the column won her fame and power,

And money as money can be,

She went on exploring the ugly truth,

But ventured too deep in the sea.

What a wonderful story she covered,

Her editor was truly impressed,

Such reality was not for the masses however,

The young leader learnt in distress.

“The world does not need such truth”.

“It’s meant to be buried deep”,

The politician said, a wry smile on his face,

As he placed thousands in a heap.

The honest editor lost his job,

As he fervently stood by the story,

And Ria sold herself once again,

To money, power, fame and glory.

Ria became the youngest tycoon,

She grew at a maddening pace,

But everything that Ria stood for,

Had fallen far from grace.

Funny are the ways of this world,

Diamonds return to dust,

When gods’ angels on earth,

Perform deeds of mistrust.