I AM WHAT I AM. Anxiety is born when we believe we’ve got a long way to go until we become enough. When the future is an abstract term that might require of us what we would lack. We fool ourselves that if we worry about it today, it might offset it for tomorrow. The ladder we’ve got to climb, what if we get stuck on the first step? But tomorrow is far away, it does not yet exist and yesterday is a thing of the past. Today is what matters, and today, being in tune with myself and knowing that I am what I am, makes my power relentless. ✨ #torealitywithlove
That day, in the evening of the drowning sun,
A bit of caffeine,
Search of laughter
With agony and blushes,
Pouring heavy hearts
Dining light souls.
There, oh once there, a woman of eight decades
Smiled and looked into my moving eyes
Like beams of light
Crossing the mirror
What do you mean by thoughts and reflections?
And didn't wait for an answer
What either, will you say about the little thing you call love?
excruciating of coffee smells
Poured silent tunes
Into the vanishing melody of my transient
Is it nothing but suffering, or is it the happy pain?
Fascinating people and wondering lives
Do you see them?
Surrounded by four young life
Of six decades less than mine?
A sky of the youth.
And do you see the table behind?
An old man laughing with his partner
Sights of broken teeth?
A rainbow of the youthful.
Pleasing and painful.
Oh, and the window beneath
Blue skies turning grey,
Autumn trees turning green
The elaborate standing moon
Colloquies of blossoms, tender and shine
All this conspiring to be in you.
Laughing and playing,
Welcoming life, welcoming death
Dear you, in sad forever
Oh, a child there
Blowing bubbles of wishes and foams
Will your heart of dalliance do that once
And that table,like your eyes
Knowing sobs and fascinating pains
There I see, the ocean of light and stars
Visioning the sky of dark and lure
Do you know, happiness?
That you drank this cup of coffee and poetry;
Now shall this lady wait for your answer,
About love and pain?
That lady of eight decades. Smiled and waved.
And I. Silenced and dusted.
About love and pain.
//Sikha Sengupta //