The Art of a Silence

Pic : Self

Sometimes
a silence
that lingers
beyond its limits,

grows
from a comfort
to a growing
awkwardness,

for sometimes
spoken words
don’t disrupt
the silence,

but act
as necessary
and needed
punctuations,

which lend
the correct meaning
to a long
silent sentence.

© vidursahdev 2019

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Influences

They tug at the rope
from either ends,

and the rope holds on
with all its strength,

for they will soon go
who play this game,

and the rope only longs
to be joined at the cut,

where the two ends can meet
to complete the circle again.

© vidursahdev 2019

Narcissism

Don’t calibrate
them
to your needs,

there is some
fulfilment
they too seek,

don’t break
them
into parts,

they too long
to exist
as a whole,

don’t tell them
what
they are not,

they need someone
to know
what they are,

don’t hold them
as if
they have no strength,

their vulnerability
is limited
to the love they revere,

don’t treat them
as expendable pawns
on your chessboard,

they are the ruling
kings and queens
of the eternal universe,

don’t exaggerate
the superiority
of your being to them,

or they’ll know
how truly
worthless you are.

© vidursahdev 2019

Links and Chains

Pic : Internet

zanjeer ki har kadi chup hai,
ek apni choti si kahani liye,

judi hai auron se,
ek ajeeb se bandhan mein,

kehte hain uski takat hai,
inn atoot rishton mein,

par har kadi thak si gayi hai ab,
auron ko yoonhi rokte hue,

issi kashmkash mein uljhi hain,
ke ab pehl kaun kare,

kyonki pehle tootne wala hi to,
hota duniya mein badnaam hai.

English version:

Each link
of the chain,
silently holds
its story within,

compulsorily tied
to each other,
in a strange
conjoint relationship,

they say,
the strength of a chain
lies in the strenth
of its links,

but each link
now tired,
of the job
of holding others back,

yet each
afraid within,
to be the first
to openly let go,

for the world
will call it the chain’s weakest,
the link
that first lets go.

© vidursahdev 2019

Cross my heart

Pic : Self

Gentle whispers
and knowing nudges
prod me on,

to believe
in hands,
that inexplicably fail,

to hold on
to life’s slippery
sands,

and I smile
at my wondrous
fortune,

of having
these angels
and these friends,

for hands
are destined
to exit empty,

but in the end
it would have
to have been,

a blessed heart,

to leave
with the memories
of so many.

© vidursahdev 2019