End of the day

What do we live for? What do we strive for? What have we attained at the end of the day when we lay down our heads at our not so soft pillows?

Do all the tears we shed, reward us with what we want? Do we receive all the love that we labour for? Is it all but an illusion? The love that we dream so bad?

If so, what do we toil for? What do we shed our sweat for? All so that we may have a moment's peace when we receive a meager of the love we dream so bad of?

The dragon slayer

How difficult is it to trigger depression? An old foe who lies asleep in the bowels of our darkest secrets.

I wish it was harder like the older times. When I had no worry for what I ate or wore. All because, I had a money tree in my house that always gave me how much ever I wanted. It was until my school days.

Now, I have reached the point in life where I have to be my own money tree. So, how do even people make money? Why do some make more and some less?

Why does a piece of paper bring so much with it? Why is everyone so much obsessed with it?

Turns out, you need it to survive. And much more of it to thrive.

Hmm. So what would be the easiest way to make more of it?

Here I am reading about a small boy slaying big dragons and finding hordes of treasures. Sounds amazing. So let us now find dragons and in turn their unsaid treasures.

I went in search of dragons in places high and low. Lo and behold, I found many a dragons. I tried fighting the bigger ones thinking they had the biggest treasures. My wounds also turned out bigger. I couldn't kill them. Nor would my wounds heal.

I learned my lesson. Let us start with smaller dragons. So I went in search of smaller dragons. Turns out, I couldn't slay them too. But the wounds they made were much deeper and close to my heart. Ouch. My heart aches as write this.

After many unsuccessful attempts, I learnt a few tips and tricks. The foremost of them is, everyone is fighting their own dragons. So, if you are friends with many, you tend to learn a lot about these dragons. If you are already friends with slayers, oh my friend, you are in luck. If not my friend, it takes you longer to learn the tricks of the trade.

But I must warn you of the naysayers. They are worse than the dragons. They make you leave the battlefield. They even make you feel like they did you a favour.

Secondly, you should be aware of this one person. The one that no one talks in the daylight. He is whispered only in the depths of the shadows. Mr. failure.

Maybe I should have said about him in the first place. Well, I had my fair share of dealing with him.

After three long unsuccessful years, I finally slayed a dragon. I held onto it like a trophy. Even though in the bottom of my heart, I knew, it wasn't enough.

Well, this dead dragon of mine, happened to be guarding a goose that lays golden eggs. The problem is, it lays only one gold egg once in a month. I have to wait till the next month to get another. Apart from this, I have to tend to this golden goose everyday from morning to eve as perspiration sweats from my brows.

If not, this goose will refuse it's golden egg. The truth be told, I got bored of this goose sooner. It left me tired all day. I felt bad that I couldn't find any bigger treasures. Not even a money tree.

So, let us get back to square one. To fighting dragons. I told myself, let my fight the infamous sister of my slain dragon. Somehow, she didn't seem as difficult as her brother. It was maybe because, I had grown stronger after all these years?

The sister dragon also happened to guard a golden goose. This goose lays eggs slightly bigger than my goose (still once a month). Some say that you have to tend to it much longer and harder. But the deal was, I have to let go of my older goose. I decided to continue with my old goose.

I started dragon hunting again. This time, I aimed for a hefty dragon. It took me more than a year to fight him. The goose he had lays two eggs a month. All golden. No doubt about it. With the same tending period as the sister dragon's goose.

Now, I should be happy, right? Happy and content. But somehow, I ain't. I am still searching for dragons to fight. The dragons that guard the gateway to Ali Baba's cave.

In the long and narrow thorn laid path, I somehow awakened the old foe. The depression. He mocks at me ever time I fall. Every time I stand. Every time I talk. Every single minute.

So, who is the real dragon I am fighting in here?

Empty balcony

That evening was undescribable. It was a chaos. She was in the middle of a storm. She was the storm. It left her devastated as usual. But something was very different. Maybe the previous night, a fairy had visited her and touched her with her magick wand. We may never know. But the difference was evident as the morning ray. For, unlike the other times, she felt a stir of anger in her. Every storm came with a promise of depression. But this one came with a touch of anger. It was something new. She, in her new found anger, vowed to never return again. Never to face the world again. She panted as she walked up the stairs to the empty balcony. She did not want anyone to see her crying. For it would have been a shame.

Maybe the balcony had awaited her arrival. For there was a beautiful display of the setting sun. She watched it like she had never the sun in it's full glory. She stood there in the gentle drizzle. She neither covered her  head nor shielded her eyes. Maybe it was the breeze, that made it more enchanting. Maybe it was the silverlined clouds. She stood there dumber that the Griffin at the Church. She stood still, till the moon graced with her sickle shaped body, till the fireflies decided to perch on her raven black hair. The empty balcony was no longer empty. She gradually retraced her steps.

Something was very different that night. She felt it in her heart. Something so soft as a feather. Still heavier than an anvil. She promised herself for the first time that she will make it through. She did not know what to call it as.

The rest of the world called it Hope.

The hurt

"Oh it hurts so bad!" cried the little one
As he clutched tight, the tiny chest of his
"I can feel the piercing pain in my bone,
The horrible pain of losing my miss!"

"Oh be ware of love! they told me too;
How I badly wish that I had paid heed!
"Alas! It breaks my heart into two;"
Said the little boy and shook his head.

But love was playful as a pretty butterfly;
As it flew from one heart to another!
Never cared if the month was June or May
As if all it ever wanted was the nectar.

Who can ever fathom the depths of love?
Or the sacrifice the was slain in it's name?
It does leave the wounds open and blue
Because it was forever green and true!