From The Quill

 A Fakira,  Cursed to be a Princess,  Lived and Died in Oblivion,  Her sacrifices forgotten  By those who wrote history  And sang the glories of the kings. ~ Suranya

 Around the bazaar of Love I roam,  Spotting souls for sale, guarded by gnomes.  Hearts are being weighed for sins and pleasures. Some sold away like valuable treasure. Exchange of valuables, time and money;  For keys to unlock the hearts of many.  "There is no guarantee", the sellers forecast,  "Take at your risk, they may not last." The gate of the bazaar has a signboard hanging.  On it lies another fair warning,  "Leave your brain outside for all seasons,  Here, there is no place for reasons." ~ SURANYA

In between the half-torn, half-lost pages  Of the past that once was, in ink and emotions I look for stories of love, life and chivalry  Amidst the soot bricks that I touch. A tale grows in my heart,  Waiting for the words to weave it together As I witness magic unfold. The wind wants to whisper to me  Stories unheard: Of moonlit nights when the ripples danced,  Or perhaps how a lover waited for romance. How doves carried messages across the land  Or wars were strangely the only survival chance  How years passed by in a trance  And homecoming was almost like a triumph. Upon the ruins of the once mighty fort  Now in rubbles and ruins  The magpie sings on the dome  As I sit upon its ridge,  Listening to the wind whisper a song  One that I could sing along. ~ SURANYA 

 Showed faith upon constellations afar,  The Sun, the Moon,  A universe ajar.  Cards, Crystals, beads  Telling the future of human beings  Claiming to be written in the stars,  Alas! None could tell the fate  Of a falling star. ~ SURANYA

I see the blue hue of endlessness,  I see You there, Adi, Ananth, Limitless.  O Blue-Necked One, Destroyer Almighty!  Tell me why You can't turn emotions into ashes!! O rattling Damroo, tied to a string of beads;  Why play like anger on His dancing grip  Why do You stir forgotten regrets  In the restless brain, breaking me to pieces? I see the grey clouds swirling in the storm,  I see the Dark One dancing in whirls.  O Cowherd, behold! Preacher of Love!  Why can't You teach to endure the pain it causes? O melancholy flute,  With a peacock feather on its tip;  Why do you play like pain on His fingertip? Why do you bring tearful memories  That strings this heart, shatters it. Does my agony amuse You?  Do my questions entertain  Do You know not answers I seek,  As I look into Your music for them? Rustling winds, playing nature's tune  Bring me Your notes in the afternoon  Pitter-patter raindrops on the mur...