There are bright places

By Aryasmita Dhir

"things fall apart, the center cannot hold." Tread these lines and slowly, bit by bit, things start to make sense. achebe talks metaphorically, ironically, perhaps in a more transcendental way but i look at the lines with simplicity of my own. there is a world world going on inside my head that needs to be addressed and fought against the innocent heart is drowning in the blood dipped world. nights paralyse me.

moon has fleckles similar to mine, but moon is loved with all her shine. watching the moon glow by love aches my heart. the morning following the night of tears, welcome the sunrays with open arms with the box of hope in disguise. I refuse to accept the unasked gift, scared of letting expectations in and breaking my heart yet again. but, hope is vulnerably sweet, it brings light

it brings a reason to thrive. expectations are poison to this pacifist soul, adding more gloom to it. taking away several nights, bringing only dead roses to home, playing games with my innocence and leaving me in a labyrinth alone. hope can do wonders if taken wisely. hope slips into your arms and makes you look at life through the lens of a rainbow. you look outside of your window and find a seven hued rope smiling at you.

but, how do i bring back the fallen apart things that the centre cannot hold? how do i fix the broken holes with

a bunch of hope? i dream of hurricanes wrapping themselves around me blinding me of all the rainbows.

"There are bright places even after dark times."

my favourite book always comes to rescue.

it seems to scream at me to get up, gather hope and strength and some sunflowers and make a wreath out of it.

By Aryasmita Dhir