i am maybe she.
and i wish to save her, badly.
for maybe she wouldnt stand.
another hit. another blow.
she might scatter in millions.
and dissolve.
in what they call, life.
-mauli
She was magnificent like that
She took the hits
She gathered the pain
And she weaved it into
Something beautiful
Something just like her
Is it your poetic gaze, those damn poetic eyes, or just my poetic heart, the very reason why every part of you each way you exist, is the most beautfiul possession that i can ever call mine....
-mauli ♡
Heyy!!🌼
✨🧡🌙SEND THIS TO TEN OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING ✨🧡
Love you sm! Forwarding this for sure! <3 <3
We as humans, don't seek improvement in the pursuit of perfection. Rather, the ability of constant improvement is itself the perfection we seek.
(og)
This is a piece I wrote in Dec.2019, and means a lot to me, when a girl named Priyanka Reddy was raped and brutally murdered in Hyderabad and it shook the whole nation, once again.
may be triggering to some
Today I cry,
tomorrow I'll weep,
for someone is always left to cry
in the world I sleep.
Someone is raped, someone is murdered.
It's shame , it shakes .
When someone already is curdled,
is when people wake.
Some blame them, some blame us.
But who's to say
that it falls on all of us ,
the blame, to raise the greys.
So, today I cry ,
for the sake that's deep.
Frightened by this hell ,I am,
a girl, in the world they sleep.
-mauli
We are mosaics --
pieces of light,
love,
history,
stars--
Glued together
with
magic
and music
and words.
- Anita Krizzan
Why do i write ?
Why am i even here?
Maybe in hope.
Maybe in desperation.
Maybe is anticipation.
Maybe because I'm a little tired every now-and-then.
Maybe because i dream of being heard, just a little, for once.
Maybe i wish, that at least someone would hear a tiny piece of my soul here, and in all anonymity, not judge me for once.
Maybe someone would read me, and not get sad, and not feel guilty, and not feel sorry, and not worry ,just be there.
Maybe that's why this scribbling is sacred. Maybe that's why i keep coming back. Maybe the insecurities i never used to have, maybe my suddenly empty social life, maybe the creepy monotony hands me my pen.
To blurt out a little and to breathe a little. Maybe that's why i write.
Maybe to live a little.
Maybe.
-mauli
Sometimes the scenarios i make up in my head amaze me.
They are so beautiul, so dreamy, so perfect, so much *needed*, it makes my heart ache from the thought that they can never come true, not ever in the exact same dreamy manner as they do in my mind. I would never find that perrffectt person and never will those deliberate- indeliberate touches and talks and gazes and moments happen...
It leaves me longing and hopeless, I guess my expectations from life , at moments, become too far-fetched.
The only way out, to turn them into reality, is to-
write down the scenario,
develop a story that is actually comprehensible (paiinnnn),
write a novel,
knock doors of publishing houses,
get it published,
work to make it a bestseller,
become a filmwriter and director,
find a producer,
get external validation for script and find rest of the crew ;))
find the perfect music that goes with my fantasy,
find the handpicked perfect cast,
and make it into a adaptation movie.
(excuse the inaccuracy my process. i am not well acquainted with all this, at least not in this universe, but that is just how i imagine)
Then all my dreams *might* come true. Is it too much? or a bare neccesity for my dream to reality journey, i will never know i guess...
(this also totaly disrupts my path of pursuing STEM career, leaving another dilemma at my hand. Life just wouldnt stop being so *REAL*, now, would it ? :I Now my options are a) Reincarnation, b) discover multiverse and travel to the universe where i did write a novel and make a movie about it, by myself, and watch that.... arghh the things we do for the love of love )
this was just a thought, no self-emotions were hurt in this post (ok, maybe a few) (excruciating pain right in middle of heart, a major headache here and there.)
"He's a book that doesnt find itself in the front showcase of the bookstore, not in the popular aisles, no. It's the one you'll stumble upon when least expected, it lurks in the corners which the common reader seldom visits. Or it might tumble on you when you're not looking, catching you by your breathe, making you fall hard, making you fall fast.
But when it's is finally found, I stop my brain before it's filled with thoughts on the cover, for a good book can't be judged that way, it's common knowledge.
I run my fingers through unintended pages , reading the random excerpts word by word. Page by page, phrase by phrase, the book makes me want to stay. It makes me want to read it patiently, not possibly all at once, for its just not possible. It's pages over pages of just art, waiting in the dark to be perceived.
It takes away your breath with each sentence, compelling you to comprehend the obvious beauty and beyond all, the meaning, the purpose and the pain.
Even if one manages to reach the last word, he's the book that would never suffices you in just one reading. So, I read it over and over and over again, never having enough. The simple complexities, the rhymes and rythmes, the perfect imperfections , the utter beauty and the guarded mysteries that leave me hanging each time, wanting more.
In quest of learning all of him, one can live a life, content, forever; for one will be loving the outcast charm that's this book, forever."
-mauli
"Life is a series of random events that happen between birth and death.."
They said. They said out of utter innocence... Or maybe ignorance.
'Random' is when something SEEMS chaos.
Seems...
'Random' is when we can't understand or find a pattern, that satisfies our human brain.
But one day just
Stop. And observe .
Observe the tiniest bits,
instead of seeing the big picture,
look at the fine details.
That is when , you'll see.
In the mind of God
this world was created.
Nothing is random here.... Just so intricate ,
it is hard to comprehend .
But just try, and you'll realise ,
that it is not cliché
to say that ,
Everything happens for a reason ,
cuz it does.
Some butterfly, flapping its wings in any meadow in Australia,
can cause a hurricane in Africa and we'll never know.
not like it means to or even realises it can ,
but it can .