“I gave birth to a monster,”
Said the mother, as her breath quickened and heart beat faster.
She watched as her child raised his head,
With eyes purged of innocence by the blood of the dead.
Corpses lay about like leaves under a tree;
The bloody remains of the boy’s killing spree.
He stepped over his father’s unmoving figure,
Lying cold and damp in a crimson river.
“Mother, was I never worthy of his love?”
He stared into her eyes reflecting the stars above. …
Have we run out of stories to tell, I wonder. Could it be that every possible cliché has made the journey from pen to paper? We mix and match, we copy and paste. Is any new idea ever truly original? Or just a rehashed version of someone else’s excellence. We are told to imitate, yet told to differentiate. Our amorphous thoughts are already plagued by bias; Influenced by infinite ripples of human thought nudging our minds ever so subtly. We strive to conjure tales unheard of, Tales of love, Tales of hardship, Tales of bravery, And now a million paths…
The footsteps quiet, reached now ever closer,
Dancing to the tunes of the night’s composer,
She hurries on, not daring to look back,
Of time and space she must not lose track.
There’s a hunter in the shadows,
Lurking and prowling it follows.
A door ajar invites her in;
A haven safe from sin and kin.
A solitary finger brushes against her knee
Startled, she reflexively turns around to see,
The smiling toddler she had come to babysit.
“Found you! Now it’s your turn to be it.”
She walks across the top of a broken building made of white marble. She reaches the edge and jumps down to the red sands below. To her surprise, the ground has a sharp incline and she finds herself gliding through a massive reddish-brown landscape. Her skirt catches the vibrant crimson hues of the scene as the wind flows through it in sublime motion. The silence is broken by warm music that swells with hope, yearning and excitement as the sun rises behind her, turning her into a dusky silhouette. The camera zooms out and you notice that the incline is…
There were only three of us left now. Richa, James and I had somehow managed to find an unused storeroom in a corner of our ship. I had insisted on taking first watch and they were getting some much needed rest. The cold, damp floor was a far cry from my warm quarters on the other end of the corridor but I didn’t dare step out.
It had all happened so quickly, I hadn’t stopped to settle down and process everything. It had begun with Chief Matt, after he had returned from his expedition on the planet’s surface. Everything had…
The wings of untamed beauty pulled back,
And for a moment the universe held its breath.
And then they fluttered,
Sending a tiny ripple across the air,
Unnoticed, unseen and untethered,
It spread across mountains and meadows,
Soaring through clear blue skies,
Crawling through deadly deep chasms,
Till it reached the rocky precipice,
Where the land bleeds into the water.
And it took a leap into the silent embrace of the ocean.
Like pieces of a puzzle coming together,
It found its place among millions of its kind,
One among others, yet like no other.
Its presence was the catalyst Poseidon had been waiting for
Together they turned and churned over the waves,
As sirens blared against the roar of nature.
And there I stood, at the edge of the precipice;
An ocean of uncertainty spread below me.
I took the plunge, holding my breath.
Eyes held shut, afraid of what they might see.
The wind tore at my clothes, my skin,
Peeling back layers of fear and anxiety.
A voice reached out in this unknown realm,
Urging me to see the beauty around me.
"Will I be okay?" I quivered.
The piercing wind was smothered at once,
My bottomless free fall, now a slow descent.
I was a feather, gliding across the fabric of space and time,
Magnificent light and glittering beauty graced my view for a quarter of a second.
I blinked again.
Eternal damnation is no pretty thing,
Tortured in hell for sins long forgotten,
Had I been human once?
In shape and form, indeed I believe I had been.
But inside had dwelt deadly demon kin.
The hellfire had razed my humanity away,
As pain became routine and my sanity went astray.
Time became meaningless, as did my existence,
With no hunger, no thirst, no sleep, no rest,
Shrouded in a crimson cape of suffering was I.
Yet the longer I spent there, The more at peace I had felt, A sense of belonging deep within me developed. I had found…
Beyond was she of the smoky clutches.
A deep breath; no shades of venom,
Across snowy mountains and rolling meadows,
Triumphant was she against fiendish touches,
A trip, a slip — the toxin lashed out.
The soot laden claw carved its way,
Etched in her soul, black veins of hell.
Trust engulfed the dark sea of doubt,
Resolute against the beast to be slain,
“Never again”; came her final vow,
A stained heart marked her a slave,
Efforts in vain, writhing in pain.
The demonic ailment showed no mercy.
A raging fire, a pile of ash alight,
Choked, strangled, in its vice grip,
Death’s call was no painless courtesy.
Now read the poem from bottom to top.
Each underlined section links back to one of 17 poems of the same names I’d written within a span of five months before putting this one up. Just as this pair of haikus wouldn’t have been possible without every unique piece falling into place, our planet is a beautiful composite work of art of which you are a very important, living, breathing part. Today, we face a multitude of challenges which are a cause of grave concern for the future of our wondrous planet.
As an integral part of this pale blue dot that we call our home, let’s all try and do what we can to make it stay that way.