It's not difficult to think of plans,
Of contingencies for every scenario,
But we plan only for the worst ones.
I've heard that the brain reinforces your thoughts.
Positivity is built, and negativity, amplified.
I wonder what happens when you only think of the worst case scenarios?
Can I Stay?
Can I still have this
For just one night more?
I know that you're not right for me,
And I'm not the one that you want.
But I don't want to pack my bags yet,
And remove myself from this place.
This place we built up together,
Where we could just be ourselves.
Just let me ignore the world
For just one night more.
Once the sun's up, I know we'll be strangers,
But tonight, I just want to stay.
– Arsh
The War Begins Silently
The beginning of the war will be secret.
There will be no parades or commendations,
No grand declarations nor proud generals boasting.
No vaunting valour for the brave soldiers
Marching surely down to their doom.
The beginning of the war will be secret.
It will begin as these things always do,
Slowly marching to an inexorable doom.
A flower's petals gradually unfurl,
And the dominoes to be toppled are all placed.
Back door deals and under the table betrayals,
The beginning of the war will be secret.
– Arsh
Tailored
Did you know that tailoring,
the word, comes from taliare,
a Latin word meaning 'to cut'?
I could write the metaphor
Explaining how being tailor-made
For you was cutting me away,
But I don't think I need to, do I?
– Arsh
Unfinished
Half-remembered dreams
And unfinished soliloquoys,
Keeping my quiet
And I won't let you in my life.
But what have I done
To just leave this all alone,
Even with all of this time
My life is still not my own.
– Arsh
Night Lights (In The Big City: Part One)
Thunder furiously rumbled across the dark night sky. Pensive, brooding, sulking.
Just like the moody Evelynne Yvonne Marie.
Twirling coils of smoke left the cigar between her fingers, as she stared at the twisting, raging tongues of fire caged in her lighter, begging for release.
How did she end up here? She wasn’t quite sure. But as she stood, sagging her fatigued figure over the rooftop railing, all she could do was gaze at the millions of miniature lights dimly lighting the city below.
“Strange, how the World is so bright even in the darkest of times…” she mused out loud, to no one in particular except the biting cold thrown around by the violent winds. She seemed to sway dangerously towards whichever side this tempest took her, as the only parts of herself fixed to anything at all were her eyes, still staring ahead.
In the far distance, a loud crack of thunder carried itself across the city sky, bringing with it the harsh, steady sound of rain hitting all, be it building, pedestrian, or pavement. Even so, the lights shined as bright as ever, never once dimming.
– Maya Desdemona
Thoughts of a Night Owl
My heart is locked in a bony cage,
Where it writhes and turns for Freedom's sweet lips.
It toils to keep this mortal vessel alive,
Yet struggles to find some peace of mind.
But Darkness calls with comfort and change,
Death's loving embrace so gentle and safe,
The Night calls away all worries formed by Day.
– Maya Desdemona
Ode To The Burnt (Matchstick)
Are you a burnt little matchstick?
Struck against scraping sandpaper
Till you shine bright enough to be a star,
But the joy of being enough is robbed by the end, without going far.
Burnt, crippled, broken, and used,
Now showing no more potential nor promise,
You are thrown away by the world,
Tossed in a pile without a thought,
The light you brought, they forgot,
So they have simply left you to rot.
-Maya Desdemona
Loss
I suppose there was truth when Calpurnia said:
"The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes."
For as I stare out my window,
Glancing at heaven above and ground below,
I see white lilies mourn the loss of a kind soul from this world,
And the mighty heavens themselves stand in shame at their helplessness.
On this day
A great and kindly spirit was robbed from this Earth,
Far too early, sooner than one would anticipate,
And simply...
That.
That spirit has left this Earth, and left us mortals in its wake
As fleeting as the picture captured
With these gifts called memories.
-Desdemona
Lilium – Sweet Lily
Sweet lilium,
Thy ghostly pallor paired with thine emerald stem,
Reaching for golden sunlight to bask thy head,
Symbol of rebirth, and of death.
At the feet of the Madonna thou art placed,
Purity of the soul returned to Heaven’s embrace,
Flush with life, forever in graceful sway,
Sweet lilium, now in decay.
– Maya Desdemona
Luminousis 