Ranked

"I was never someone's first love. I never knew how it felt to be looked at with unadulterated eyes like you define a feeling for them." She eyed him with a faint smile, watching him frown.

She sounded upset.

"Why is it so important?" He enquired. "Isn't the goal to be someone's last?"

"Because I know what it feels like to be in love the first time." She stared at the horizon and back at him.

"You mean the silly mistakes and lessons?" He was amused.

"No, that's a crush you think you are in love with." She corrected. He still looked confused.

"I mean the one that defines your faith in love.

The one which remains beautiful even in ruins."

A sudden hollow feeling crept into her being, eating at her soul; she wanted to shrug off the heaviness in her heart. She inhaled as if to fill the hollow with air.

"The one whom you could never badmouth, even when your heart was shattered?" He was curious.

"Yeah, that one."

© Suranya

Absolute

A little boy on the street 

Working for the day's breadstick 

Being told by soldiers to bow 

As the general passes by 

On his high horse. 

"I bet he is freer 

Than I ever will be. 

The boy imagines a fate 

That one day he would be lord of the castle. 

A general leading an army to war 

People bowing and obeying his orders.

The general knelt before the king, 

Owning up to the loss in his name. 

The king rebuked and penalised

In front of an entire court that scrutinised.

"I bet he is freer than me 

Nobody to answer to, he does as he pleases.

The general grunted under his teeth 

As the king ordered him to retreat.

The king was received by advisors in his chamber.

"You must not step out. Your life is in danger."

"Not even to the lawn? The balcony?"

"No, sir, you must stay away from the cacophony 

Of rebels and criminals."

The king moved from room to room 

The castle he built became his prison.

He prayed before the image of God 

"I bet you are a man of your own will, 

Irony, I am the king of the world, 

Yet, a prisoner of my fate."

God smiled, hoping he realised, 

Even God was not beyond His fate. 

He watched the world being built and rebuilt 

Men fighting men, killing them at will. 

He watched the good turn to evil, 

Turning the wheel of faith for the devil. 

He watched as he lost His Love 

His favourite son, His values 

That once led Humanity apart.

Was there anyone existing in the chaos 

The boy, the king, the stars that tangled 

Around the universe, truly free?

Existing outside a pattern, a rule or a system 

Beyond their control?

Another question to ponder upon, 

When you seek absolute freedom.

~ Suranya

Secrets of the Night

 Why does sleep not come to the restless soul?

Why does it hide from sight?

Like a glimpse of your love?

Why do nightmares haunt my daydreams?

Why does life look like nothing but extreme

As I look back at all that is lost?

The string that once tugged at my heart,

Pulling us near and apart,

I was too weak to hold on anymore.

The pearls scattered across the floor,

As I broke free from what hurt,

Your presence in my story

Stung my soul like a poisonous ivy,

In a garden of tulips and roses.

Yet on nights like these,

When it rains, the way it rained tonight,

Drenching our souls in plight,

Quenching our thirst for desires long lost,

Will I be too shallow to admit,

In the deepest corner of my broken heart,

That I miss your presence

Like a page missing from a book?

Why am I writing at midnight?

Awake, alert and sleepless

Why am I scared of my thoughts?

Why does our story not end?

Even when it never began in the first place?

Why does the chapter keep coming back

In haunting memories of past recollection;

The one that I wrote in your name?

Why do I wish for another life,

When I don't want this one?

Why do I wish for it to be true?

In some universe, we exist in parallel,

Writing a different story, a different ending

For me and you.

~ Suranya

Adulting

Remember when we were kids and we thought that 20s were grown-up years, to be moms and wives, because we saw that around us, and we thought people in their 30s had things sorted. They worked, had enough savings to start families and think about investments, cars and homes. Today, in my 30s, I realise I am as clueless about life as I was when I was 15. Yes, I have been forced to "adult" by experiences I never chose to have, traumas I never imagined and mental and physical health issues I once attributed to old people, but am I truly ready to be responsible if I had a choice? We are all forced into our paths of career, choices and decisions as adults more than we ever intend to. The sleepless nights we once spent thinking about our life goals are now stressed with investment issues, parents getting older, people around us leaving all the time for various reasons and our innermost insecurities. We realise that life is not as meaningful or purposeful as we thought it to be. We realise we exist and breathe, and perhaps have no rhyme or reason as to why. We realise that the fact that we thought everything would make sense is untrue. Nothing makes sense in this chaos, and no matter what you plan, they don't work out. Manifestation works for very few people. But I know myself a little better than I did at 15, 1 am less critical about my shortcomings and more accepting of my flaws, and I know the things I don't want in life. That is the part of adulting that I chose to have. The rest of it just came along with life. Every time I hear the term "grow up", it upsets me. Especially when it's said because someone got happy over something silly like having a celebrity crush or finding their favourite ice lollies still taste the same. When did growing up equate to being boringly unhappy? Do we not have enough problems and stress on our plates daily, not to judge if someone gets momentary happiness out of "irrelevant" things? I guess artists know this more than anyone else in the world. We know how to love and respect what we do without equating the time spent with money earned. We know how to hold on to our dreams even if the reality of our situations pushes them further away. In short, we survive in our dream bubbles but are fully aware of the reality around us, so don't be fooled. We choose to be adults in a way that suits us more than it suits society. Why is that a crime in the eyes of realists? Why is everything that goes beyond dull monotony termed immaturity? I have no idea, do you?