Kneading My Own Clay

Why have I surrounded myself with the darkness of others?
Letting shadows fill my days as if they were my own lovers.
Why have I made my life devoid of its light,
Strayed so far from my path that even hope feels out of sight?

Why did I start asking others who I am, what I need,
Letting their voices guide me, planting doubt’s bitter seed?
Occupied with their struggles when mine are enough to bear,
I neglected the battles I should’ve fought with my own care.

I left behind what I was once carefully building,
The dreams that were forming, the foundations I was gilding.
Now the vase I wanted to shape is just a lump of clay,
While others have baked theirs, potted plants that sway.

I poured myself into their pain, into causes not my own,
And now I stand here, with nothing of my own to have grown.
I gave my hands, my heart, to mend what I did not break,
But in doing so, I forgot the journey I was meant to take.

It’s time to reclaim the light I’ve allowed to slip away,
To knead the clay again, and shape it without delay.
I’ll carve my own design, bake it in the fire of my will,
And plant a seed within it, letting my own spirit spill.

For I am not a vessel for others' burdens to fill,
But a creator of light, love, and unbroken will.
It’s time to step back onto the path I wandered from,
And reclaim the life that is mine, the light I must become.

Comments

Game Of Fire and Ice

Hey Mister, Why won't you play a game of Twister? I promise I won't play coy. Won't you love it if I were your only toy? You can be the Lion in the boardroom, Then make me roar in the bedroom. Let's play the game of fire and ice. You bring the sugar, and I get the spice. I am praying by myself these nights, Drowning my moans when the city sleeps tight. We can play the game of Super Sonic, And then have our own race over some gin and tonic. So find me, like an app can find a phone. No, I won't bring out my Medusa and turn you into stone. I have been getting over my fears, Learned to make my tears into spears. You can take me as you like. We can go until we hear the third strike.

Polished Sins

A suit and tie, that polished smile, Covering up sins stacked mile by mile. They flaunt “new love,” someone else’s child— A ready-made story, perfectly styled. They’ve “levelled up,” or so they preach, But on someone’s pain, they made their reach, With vows of loyalty, words so neat, While another’s screams lie beneath their feet. Oh, they “moved on” to brighter skies, Leaving someone broken, with silent cries. They mount new heights, they shout and boast— Scaling peaks on another's haunted ghost. So smile for the camera, flash your pride, Show off the life that you tried to hide. For we know the truth beneath your gleam— A hollow show, a self-made scheme.

Till You Sing

Some would say men went to war for women like you, But I would still choose war if it meant choosing you. You say you write in amorous lines, But I would let you be the woman of my tribe. You had your adventures Under The Buda Moon, But have you been loved past noon? So I can see you shine like a magical flower, In the quiet warmth of the golden hour. The invisible strings pull at my heart Can I do justice to your name? Caress you right, Till you sing like a Carnatic hymn. Inspired by the author of Under The Buda Moon, Veena Rao

Cruising Alone

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