Shriyandhaa's space

  Dwell  In the present  NOT in your whimsies  Because in your own mystical world  That is trapped within your own mind Anything can happen  Absolutely ANYTHING  But, it was never meant to be REAL. See, there's no fault in wishing  Simply brooding over and hoping   What things might be  Rather than what things are. But it does not do to try to make them real. You see, the weight of each moment that passes by Every second that you let slip  See, it's heavy, it's heavy to carry and alter. Every little, seemingly unimportant moment  In your life  Well, it depends on an even more insignificant  Yet significant frame in your life's animation. And absolutely nothing lies within your control Or your notice  So it does not do  To try to make the very little things happen. But what if I tell you, What if I tell you that there is another universe  Not just any universe, but one parallel to us Our mirror, yet...

In the mid-summer heat, amongst a forest I walked, Staring at the strong-trunked, diverse species of trees And I bonded along with them for the rest of the day  I gave them sweet company until I turned to leave. In the midst of autumn breeze, I came back to my forest  To check in on my ever-standing tree companions, And to my surprise, they had dyed themselves bright  A vibrant, vibrant hue of the striking colour orange. In the medial of winter's blizzards, I returned to my forest And sobbed as I found the trees standing, but now leafless  I hugged a trunk, feeling an instant cold emptiness  And I went back home with a heart full of regret. In the midpoint of calm spring season, I walked to the forest  To meet my once tree friends, to wish them all the best  And to my utter joy, I found them standing yet again  And this time, with life, with leaves, fruits and nests. In the time I call many years later, I returned to my forest, Hoping that after s...

  Something everyone should know, Is that just because a string of words However they may be Sweet, sour, bitter, flattering, They need not be factual. Because words are merely an accessory; They're for the people  Who can't understand lucid emotions  Through body language. What you say has nothing Absolutely NOTHING  To do with what you FEEL. What you feel is maybe the only truth  That resides inside of you  And to revolve around those little whimsies  In material form  Is just  A squander of your time. And if you know, With little or all your heart, That the beautiful or hideous words  Uttered by a soul  Is false, Then I suggest you save your little time  And ignore the fibbers. Do NOT waste your time  Do NOT become their replica.

  Rickety benches, Dusty blackboards, Flimsy windows, A squeaky door, Peeled off walls, Greasy ceiling, Cragged floors And a very weird feeling. At times, as silent as the sunrise, At times, louder than a traffic jam, Most times, empty, lifeless and muted, Other times, bursting with joy and laughter. With a very eerie camera eyeing us sceptically, But let it stay in the corner it is in  Otherwise, a classroom that's bittersweet always Either filled with anger, or with uncontrollable  Laughter. During tedious classes, jokes still arise, Soon stifled down by the austere teachers  But when the blagues continue to rocket high, Punishment it is for the whole class, from the Teacher.  But still, a class that isn't put down easily  A class that tends to bounce back to its  Jauntiness  My class is that which is nonchalant and blithe My class is that which is bittersweet again.