BLACK

Most people say Black symbolizes darkness. They say Black means nothing. They say Black is hollow. I say Black is all this and much more. Black is supposed to be colourless, without having no meaning. I disagree. Black encompasses all the colours, it has all light, it hides all beauty, it is the source of all imagination, it is the origin of all ideas. It has the earth, the world, the universe in it. It is the pinnacle Power in its purest and impurest form. It is where everything merges. It is a union of Joy and Sorrow, a juxtaposition of the New and Old, it is a sea of the Vast and the Least. It is all that we are aware of, all that we are not aware of, all that we can know and all that we may not know. Then isn't Black "God". As T.S. Eliot testify - In God right is wrong and wrong is right; love is hatred and hatred is love. And so is it in the case of Black. I said Black is a power. Let me put it this way, Black is "The Ultimate Power". The power to do anything that the heart wishes and the mind commands. Impossibility is the greatest acknowledgement for Black. Then why is Black associated with the Evil? Isn't there some Good in the so called Bad? So doesn't Black become the bearer of Good. Black is beautiful, Black is terrible. In Black there is no outer vision, no sound, no expression. Yet there are feelings, there are emotions - heart rendering and heart warming. Perhaps that is the reason that the greatest things in life cannot be seen or heard; they can only be felt. Black is Hatred, Black is Love. For Love has no identity without Hatred and Hatred becomes redundant without Love. They are two sides of a coin. Two sides of Black. We come from Black and fade away into it, and the light we see in our life is an illusion - For at its heart lies Black. It is up to us to choose. It is our perception as to what we make of it. Whether we acquire wisdom, or rot in its ignorance. Why can't souls be seen? Because they merge into the darkness around them. Therefore, our hollow souls are containers of experiences, which are lost into eternity and infinity, once they are freed from the fallacy of their existence.Black is the great canvas of innovation, it is the blank page that contains a great dynamo of thoughts. It is in Black where the truth lies, and as human nature is everyone it is afraid of the unknown; afraid of the darkness around them and within them. If we just let go, we might have to fumble our way for sometime, but in the end we shall emerge as all the more invincible. Black is conception, inception and termination. There is always a way of communication and it is where without music, without pictures, without words one can understand each other... Black is the zenith that something can reach. It is all that remains when everything is taken away from something. Black is the only thing that survives after oblivion.

Writer's Block

As I'm typing, I'm listening to music of the 90s' (I love those songs!). I have nothing in particular to write (read the Title). It's been like this for quite a while. The funny thing is I want to write! But I just can't.

I'm sure you know the feeling. You really, really, really want to write. You'r blocked. You've hit the wall. The words just wont come.

I guess in my case, I'm bereft of inspiration.

So I'm going to a little bit of searching- How, Where. . BLAH BLAH ??!!

I don't know (That's my standard answer for almost everything!)

Till then I'm sorry! This blog is not going to be very entertaining.

Fairies

This is a poem that is a representation of people and their fears and thoughts. When we as people get uncomfortable or scared we have a tendency to run. This is what this poem represents. .
Hope you like it! :) :)

The moon has risen the sun has gone,
The fairies come out one by one.
The stars light their way through the weary night.
They must get prepared for their untimely flight.
The winter has come much too soon.
They must flee this night, by the light of the moon.

The days are cold, the nights just as bad.
The fairies have lost what they once had.
The warmth of the sun, the breeze of the night,
Now they are desperate, fleeing by flight.