Divine Ghost

-


From distant gaze, you shine with radiant grace,

Like dawn that gilds the edges of the sky.

Your tender smile enchants the longing heart,

And draws us close, as tides obey the moon.


But standing near, your laughter splits the air,

A thunder crack that shatters sacred calm.

Revealed beneath,your teeth are stained with night,

As though the dark itself has learned to bleed.


Within your charm, a silent serpent coils,

Its venom masked in honeyed, gentle words.

Your voice, like fire in sacred scripture cast,

Still lures the lost like moths unto their end.


Desire burns in you, a restless flame,

And war resounds within your beating pulse.

A beauty fierce, yet cloaked in false divine,

A storm disguised within a house of prayer.


Yet I have seen beyond your shining veil,

A truth no shadow dares to hide for long.

I bear a strength, a quiet binding force,

To break your hold and strip your borrowed light.


For every soul you crushed beneath your will,

For every cry that vanished into dust,

I draw a circle none of yours can cross-

A silent prison forged in truth and time.


Your magic fades like fire before the storm,

Your sacred mask will crumble into ash.

And I shall stand, unmoved, beyond your reach-

The end of all your beautiful deceit.


Hey! humankind, be wary of bright lies,

Not every light that shines will lead to truth.

For beauty worn without a soul will rot,

And sacred words can mask a sharpened blade.


Do not bow down to glittering deceit,

Nor lose your voice in echoes not your own.

For those who question, see and dare to stand,

Will break the chains that blind the willing heart.


Let truth be fire that purifies your sight,

Let courage be the shield you choose to bear.

Or else, like moths that worship dying flames,

You too may fade within a borrowed light.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Came, I Saw, I Vanished

-
Image
  I was a seed at dawn-my life began, Beneath the soil where quiet hope once ran. I came, I saw, I breathed the silent air, A fleeting whisper,here, then nowhere. >>> With every sun, I rose and learned to grow, I felt the winds and rains I’d come to know. The world I saw was brief and full of light, A fragile dance that faded into night. >>> My life moved on in ways I’d never know, Like grains of dust through open hands it’d flow. In shadowed steps, I drifted out of sight, A silent rhythm fading into night. >>> I came and went like mist at break of day, My colors dimmed, my edges slipped away. A fleeting breath, a form that could not stay, A shadow lost along the quiet way. >>> I turned within and from the world I hid, A voiceless echo of the life I lived. A memory soft lingering in shade, A distant trace that slowly starts to fade. >>> Yet in my loss, a quiet grace I find, A gentle peace that lingers in the mind. For as I fade, I feel a...
Read more

Ash Beneath the God

-
Image
In temple fire, I rose beyond my name, My colors burned,red rage, white hush, black past. Bare feet on stone, I climbed through chants and smoke, Each drumbeat shaped a god from fragile bone. My skin became a map of hidden truths, A painted lie the faithful learned to trust. I wore their faith like armor made of flame, While doubt lay waiting, breathing under ash. Each step I climbed was built from silent need, From hunger sharpened by a world denied. I rose, Kaliyattakkaran  in their eyes- No longer man, but something they could fear. Crowned high in fire and woven threads of awe, I stood where questions perished into praise. They bowed as if my silence carried truth, While pride and faith grew tangled in my chest. At last I stepped into the living flame, Not as a man, but longing turned to light. I felt myself dissolve in something vast- The fire and I were no longer apart. In that bright union, doubt began to stir, A whisper threading through the sacred heat. For even gods, when...
Read more

A Brew Called Peace

-
Image
  “Peace is often not genuine calm or harmony. It is a kind of numbness or illusion created after violence, pain, and sacrifice.” ********************* What we call “peace” is not pure - it is something fermented from suffering. Sacred words are placed in vessels, mixed with human blood, burned, buried, dissolved, turned into something else  and when we consume it, the numbness we feel is what we name as peace. >>> The world can cut and bleed, and peace from bitter seeds grows, In quiet after dreams, from shadows and from screams it flows. *** A sorrow steeped so slow in wounds we hide and vows we keep, Words once so pure and bright now stained in endless nights run deep. *** Sacred words rest in vessels, truths we cannot deny still, Mixed with what life has torn, with weary hearts it bends our will. *** Burned and broken away, then buried deep in hidden ground, Lost within time itself, where silent pain will not be found. *** At last it turns anew, from all the trial...
Read more

The Grave Flowers Bloom

-
Image
  Grave flowers rise where quiet stones remember, Bright blooms that carry neither scent nor pride. I walk among the rows of silent sleepers, And feel the breath of stories in the soil. *** Why do these blossoms grow without their fragrance? Perhaps the earth has drunk their tears too long. Beneath this ground lie hearts that once were burning, With love for others, hopes the world forgot. *** Some lived their lives in service of another, And gave their light like candles in the wind. Their gentle deeds were scattered through the seasons, Yet time has sealed their names beneath the dust. *** I stand and think how fragile life can wander, How pride and anger fade before the grave. No gold remains, no crown survives the silence- Only the weight of kindness that we gave. *** These flowers teach a quiet human lesson: That life is brief, but goodness travels far. The hands that heal, the words that guard another, Outlive the noise of power and of fame. *** Sometimes I feel these blossom...
Read more

One Room, Nowhere

-
Image
  I used to have a room with corners that remembered me. Walls that heldthe warmth of names, a window where the sun arrived gently- like it knew me. Now, the sky is my ceiling,wide, careless, never the same twice. The pavement does not keep memories- only footsteps that forget me as soon as they pass. I build my “room” out of shadows at night, a doorway from cardboard and hope, a roof from borrowed sleep. People walk by like closed doors. Their eyes- windows that never open. But still, in the quiet between noises, I gather small things: a kind glance, a half-smile, the warmth of tea held too long in my hands. And somehow, in this endless nowhere, I carry a room inside me fragile, invisible, but mine. Not made of walls,but of what I refuse to lose.   "Though walls may fade and corners blur,   the heart's own room remains pure, sure,   crafted not of stone or wood, but grace-  an everlasting, sacred place."         
Read more

The Lament of Unseen Sorrows

-
Image
Upon the silent edge I found her grace, No pallid shroud, nor clanking of a chain, But lullabies enwoven in her face, And ancient sorrow folded in her pain. She spake, "I am the shade of what untold, The grief unchristened, by the world unnamed. 'Postpartum,' they did call it, swift and cold, As if mere time such anguish had contained." No chilling draft, no whisper on the air, Yet felt I then the burden of her sight. She told of children, vanished past compare, Not lost to earth, but cradled from the light. For strangled dreams, ere breath their being drew, And joy, in infancy, by hands unseen, Were offerings given, bitter, stark, and true, The death of futures, where no light had been. "These are the ones no burial rites attend," She murmured low, "Thus must I ever bear." "Dear Jayan," once she breathed, "unto the end, I rode unseen, a shadow in your care. You turned not 'round, but hastened on your way,...
Read more

Hidden Rabies

-
Image
  Hidden dogs roam every road beneath the sun Their restless barking fills the evening air We see their teeth and hear their warning growls So careful feet can pass the dusty path But some dark creatures hide beyond our sight Like sudden lightning striking from the void They leap unseen and bite the trembling flesh Then fade again inside the silent shade Such rabid hearts run fast through shadowed lanes They carry death within their restless breath A storm of rage that no one hears or sees Until the wound appears upon the soul Among the crowds some human faces smile Yet deep inside their silent venom sleeps They wait like hunters buried in the dark For one brief chance to strike a fragile life Their hidden war is waged in quiet minds No barking warns the traveler on the road They walk with us like ordinary souls But storms of ruin gather in their chest They harm another with a sudden blow Yet walk beside their own approaching grave For those who live to wound the world in hate Alre...
Read more

The Black Wells

-
Image
  “What did I have?” said the old Arab man, “What did I have before the roaring machines?” I had palm trees whispering in desert wind, Dates like honey in the hands of my sons, A quiet well, a camel’s slow shadow, And stars that belonged to no one but God. >>> Then strangers came with maps and promises, Eyes fixed not on my trees but the earth below. They said the sand was rich with black rivers, And the desert would shine with golden wealth. My palms were cut, the wells grew taller than minarets, And the night filled with the thunder of engines. >>> “What did I gain?” said the tired old man, “What did the desert gain from this black fire?” Cities rose where the dunes once wandered, But soldiers marched where children once ran. The wind carried smoke instead of prayers, And the sky learned the color of war. >>> Decades passed like drifting sandstorms, Kings changed, flags rose and fell. My sons grew into men with rifles, Their sons into shadows in distant...
Read more

The Character Beyond the Page

-
Image
  In God’s vast poem she was a passing line, A quiet shadow drifting through the text. Her colors faded in the writer’s dark ink, A dream that time had slowly washed away. She had no name that echoed through the lines, No weight to bend the rhythm of the tale. She came and went like wind through empty rooms, A fleeting step between important scenes. The pages where the spring of love once flowed Had long grown dry beneath repeating words. She spoke the same old lines the story gave, A dull refrain of days that never changed. Within a half-written and wandering tale She was a patch between unfinished thoughts, A seam the writer placed to hold the thread Of something larger she could never see. But in a silent corner of the page A question stirred beneath the printed lines: “Why must I live inside this narrow space? Why should my life be written by your ink?” That day the ink that shaped her fragile world Could not command her wandering spirit’s will. The fences built by chapters cra...
Read more