I sit here alone feeling so empty,
And Lonely,
I think of you often
every minute of the day,
wondering how you are?
What you are doing?
Wishing i could see you...
I sit remembering all we've shared,
Dreaming of all that will be,
And crying a tear for evry minute
we are apart..
At times i tell myself I am strong,
and the time apart will go quickly,
yet at others, i sit and cry
And wonder why love must hurt this way!!
Though somewhere in the loneliness,
somewhere in the emptiness,
I find myself feeling very loved
and I realize that,
its not the loving that hurts so much...
its BEING WITHOUT YOU
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next
Dreams keep running through my mind
Made in a land of fairy tales,
A place my heart longs for so.
Cut off from the rest of the world
With streams, and meadows to roam,
Viewed from a little girl's eyes,
A place that would always be home
A place where berries grew wild
Where rabbits and squirrels were seen
Where a racoon could be a friend
And deer played down by the stream.
A world where imagination made all come true
And a little girl could be a queen
Where daydreams were spun like cobwebs
But a world where everything wasn't what it seemed.
For every little girl has to grow up
And daydreams shatter in your hand,
You find the home you thought was your own
Is nothing but a simple piece of land.
The flowers don't seem to bloom so bright,
And fairy tales no longer come true,
For it is seen now through grownup eyes,
No longer the world that you knew.
But still...Somewhere in the back of my mind
That place will always remain
To beckon me back time and again
My heart pins me down with the weight of my emotions,
Pain, hurt confusions, the mighty tormentors...
I stagger towards my sanctuary, and pick up my pen,
A slight sting as the words start flowing, slow and steady, uninterrupted...
The page comes to life, a vivid display of feelings, as I write to my heart's content,
For a moment, a mere instant, I am the planner; I, the creator...
Concocting stories of forever, and ever afters,
Too perfect to believe, too comforting to let go...
Things I can only yearn for, dance to my tune,
My destiny, a mere puppet of which I am the master...
The facade continues, till my insanity ebbs away,
Until reality sets in, arousing me from my wishful stupor...
I lay purged of my feelings, empty, hollow, weak;
The ink from my pen, slowly running out...
The feelings, so vividly clear, dissolving into nothing,
The words so lovingly inscribed, fading away...
The ending of my story, within my reach,
As I close my eyes,
surrounded by a pool of my blood...
The blade slips from my hand,
punctuating the silence,
The final full-stop,
and my veins run dry.
They say walls have ears and that friends are good listeners. I could never understand the phrase until I actually recalled the times I have spent sharing my joys and sorrows with an empty room. Where there was no one around who could see and feel how disturbed i was and see that i needed someone to talk to me. I find myself declaring that these walls of my room have been my best friends! And within these walls of my room lies a universe of my own, in which I have chartered each galaxy for myself and where each star shines for me and only me.
Although I've heard the clock ticking away for endless hours, it seems as if time has stopped in this room. However time has definately elapsed for those who have been outside it, I have years of my life pass. I have grown from a little girl whose picture is still there on the wall, into a teenager girl. The carpet, the same bed on which I have dreamt countless dreams and shed countless tears. It has always been there to hold me close to console me and at times to share my joys.
The table on which I've studied for innumerable tests and exams remains the same. It too has suffered cause of my moods, when i was unable to solve some mathematics problems or I was unable to memorize complex chemistry formulae. It has been the sole witness of my long hours of day dreaming and much more.
The room which i call my own, is a memoir of my life. It reminds me of my past and envisions my future. It knows me better than anyone else does. When i pretended to be strong in front of the world it was only my room that saw me collapse and thus saw the real 'ME'. My room has ceratainly been my best and true friend, accompanying me through different phases of my life. Today, when i look at myself through the old mirror resting at the top of that same old dressing table. I see an image of myself not as i am now, but as i was ten years ago
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
There are moments in life when you miss someone so much that you just want to pick them from your dreams and hug them. Dream what you want to dream, go where you want to go, be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do.
May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, enough hope to make you happy. Always put yourself in others' shoes. If you feel that it hurts you, it probably hurts the other person, too. The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.
Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives. Love begins with a smile, grows with a kiss and ends with a tear. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past, you can't go on well in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches. When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Live your life so that when you die, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying
He had been singing—but I had not heard his voice;
He had been weaving lovely dreams of song,
O many a morning long.
But I, remote and far,
Under an alien star,
Listened to other singers, other birds,
And other silver words.
But does the skylark, singing sweet and clear,
Beg the cold world to hear?
Rather he sings for very rapture of singing,
At dawn, or in the blue, mild Summer noon,
Knowing that, late or soon,
His wealth of beauty, and his high notes, ringing
Above the earth, will make some heart rejoice.
He sings, albeit alone,
Spendthrift of each pure tone,
Hoarding no single song,
No cadence wild and strong.
But one day, from a friend far overseas,
As if upon the breeze,
There came the teeming wonder of his words—
A golden troop of birds,
Caged in a little volume made to love;
Singing, singing,
Flinging, flinging
Their breaking hearts on mine, and swiftly bringing
Tears, and the peace thereof.
How the world woke anew!
How the days broke anew!
Before my tear-blind eyes a tapestry
I seemed to see,
Woven of all the dreams dead or to be.
Hills, bills of song, Springs of eternal bloom,
Autumns of golden pomp and purple gloom
Were hung upon his loom.
Winters of pain, roses with awful thorns,
Yet wondrous faith in God’s dew-drenchèd morns—
These, all these I saw,
With that ecstatic awe
Wherewith one looks into Eternity.
And then I knew that, though I had not heard
His voice before,
His quiet singing, like some quiet bird
At some one’s distant door,
Had made my own more sweet; had made it more
Lovely, in one of God’s miraculous ways.
I knew then why the days
Had seemed to me more perfect when the Spring
Came with old bourgeoning;
For somewhere in the world his voice was raised.
And somewhere in the world his heart was breaking;
And never a flower but knew it, sweetly taking
Beauty more high and noble for his sake,
As a whole wood grows lovelier for the wail
Of one sad nightingale.
Yet if the Springs long past
Seemed wonderful before I heard his voice,
I tremble at the beauty I shall see
In seasons still to be,
Now that his songs are mine while Life shall last.
O now for me
New floods of vision open suddenly …
Rejoice, my heart! Rejoice
That you have heard the Quiet Singer’s voice!
I need so much the quiet of your love,
After the day's loud strife;
After the stress of life.
I need your calm all other things above
I crave the haven that in your dear heart lies,
After all toil is done;
I need the star shine of your heavenly eyes,
After the day's great sun!
Around the Corner
Around the corner i have a friend,
In this great city, that has no end
yet they days go by and weeks rush on
and before i know it, a year is gone
And I never see my old friends face
For life is a swift and terrible race
He knows i like him just as well
As in the day when i rang his bell
And he rang mine, but we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men,
Tired of playing a foolish game
Tired of trying to make a name
'Tomorrow' I say 'I will call on him'
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes
and distance between us grows and grows
Around the corner! yet miles away
'Here's a telegram Sir, He tired today'
And thats what we get and deserve in the end
Around a corner a vanished friend
