THE WOMAN

She is the epitome of love
She is accredited the reasons for success
She is mortal
But the beauty of her sensuality is immortal
She is bound within the worldly tags
But her inner self is not in captivity
She is the free bird in the skies of her dreams
And yet she is the stagnant incarnation of tolerance

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Man has conquered her many times
He has possessed her innumerably
Still her soul is the monarch since time unending
Illusions fantasizes her, and imaginations treat her
And sometimes she transits into the practical human
Her mysteries are unraveled
Her dreams are rosy
Her wishes are romantic
Her presence is divine and serene
For she is gods dearest creation

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Her charm is unparallel and unchallenged
She is instinctive
She is impulsive
Well she is a paradox .........!!
And a puzzle, what a pity yet what a pleasure
Distinct and different is her existence
She is the radiance of the celestial suns
She is the soothe of the lonely moon
She is the giggle of the rippling cascade
She is the roar of the violent ocean
She is the blaze of the burning fire
She is the calm of the replicating placid lake
The mirror adores her appearance
Men crave her surrenderance
And other women envy her excellence
She has power to create and even devastate
She can withstand but she can even retaliate ..........
Her patience is tested
Her ability is questioned
Her birth has often been mourned and oftener regretted
She is considered a curse and exploited
And now she stands victorious
She rules, rears, replenishes, regenerates
She nurtures, nourishes, necessitates, nestles .........

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She contradicts herself
She conflicts within her arenas
She wants to be loved passionately
She wants to be respected intensely
She is intimated and sometimes she strives solitude
Her desperations never evade
With ceasing of her existence the creation will crumble
And with her forbearance the fruits will ripen
She is the one who has sustained
She is the one who has cared
Yet she is unwanted ...........
She awaits no more for her plight to change
She has started to fight out her own battle
She will be victorious
She will be the triumphant
For she is gods precious gift to man
She is “THE WOMAN” ............!!

ARYA

A MARCH

How difficult it is to preserve beauty,
Yet how difficult is it to forget the beauty.
How difficult it is to face the truth,
Yet how difficult is it to survive the truth.
How difficult it is to forgive,
Yet how difficult is it to forgive and forget.
How difficult it is to climb the mountain,
Yet how difficult is it to remain at one conquered peak.
How difficult it is to have rosy dreams,
Yet how difficult is it to achieve these dreams.

Pondering upon the mysticism and magic,
Introspecting the inner self’s charisma and sparkle,
Searching for more difficulties to overcome
Looking for solace and satisfaction
Looking for cheer, calm and happiness,
The Mortal gradually marches, marches, marches…..
To unknown places
And unknown faces.

Enduring the questioning glares
Bearing the tormenting stares
Man moves on and on and on…..
His love, his passion
His strength, his emotions
All leave him and escape
Still what remains is the mortal’s memorable march

A march to overcome
A march to win
A march of happiness….!!


-Arya