Black and White

Between black and white,

Right and wrong,

There are morals,

That I must follow.

 (c) Mitul Magu

26^th September, 2016

A Picture of Its Own Sounds

In the ghastly town near the Brooke
There was a small chime that made soothing sounds
And ever so often I would
Gaze upon its mastery
Of how good I felt listening to it.

There was a crisp morning after the dawn
And the crystal clear water was showering over the small pond
Where lillies were floating
With peace to the world
And the sounds grew louder.

There was a small crack in the rocks
That flushed into the whole pond with water trickling outward
In a hurry to meet it's end
It's destination
From its place of birth.

And I sat down in between the melody
Where the sounds would resonate together in perfect harmony
Where the birds chirped
To the growling sounds
In the underbrush.

And I had yet to understand
What all this had meant in a world where sound was everything
And so I paused
And observed
And waited.

And knowing that the melody was a way of nature
And what nature showed me was the true beauty of its own kind
What it wanted me to see
A picture
Of its own sounds.

(c) Mitul Magu
26 August, 2016

Clockwork

The form of caress that gently follows,

My inner demons that feels so hollow.

I cannot address what speaks to me,

What has been and will always be,

A sight to remember.

It strokes in a way that I do not know,

Like seasons it changes to and fro.

“How do you feel like now” I ask,

“What has happened in the past?”

I do not know.

It slyly turns into subtle madness,

Changing again to rushed sadness.

Even when I begin to see,

Hope that is momentary,

It feels dim.

The heat builds up and does not go,

There is a side that I cannot show.

For it needs to be built up in me,

And in time I will reveal,

It’s clockwork.

And then June makes its way,

Extending summer to another day.

“Winter will come soon though”

“Autumn isn’t really far you know”

I pledge.

With made up memories in my mind,

That speak to me all the time.

I feel sorrow in what I shouldn’t have done,

And look back at how far I had come,

I feel regret.

With open windows on my wall,

In the heated summer I call.

To all those who have been close to me,

Who see the life the way I see,

With remorse.

And in my book I’ll soon write down,

A symbolic passage of what I’m bound.

And I’m going to leave it there and then,

For weeks to come and weeks to spend,

With delight.

Until I find a reason to rise,

That I no longer need despise.

That I no longer have to run,

That I have fears to overcome,

For good.

And winter flashes back through those days,

And brings back good in many ways.

“But June has gone and May will stay”

“Where will you go now” I say,

I’m stuck.

And with those emotions in my mind,

I will have to forgive myself this time.

That what I have done cannot be undone,

And will have to accept what I have become,

With forgiveness.

And the clockwork slowly begins to reveal,

A quiet, gentle side of me.

That was before and holds on again,

And tells me of what I have been,

Careful.

The seasons cycle on and on,

“With no potential harm? Come on!”

I will truly begin to see,

That I’m not a part of what others can’t be,

A lone survivor.

And now every now and then,

I speak up to the existence within,

That is there acceptance in my mind?

That will everything be fine?

I ponder.

And now weeks and hours alone,

Cannot bring back that tale I know.

And with that I bring to adjust,

An old tale that I must,

See be brought out of the heavens doors,

And left in the open floor,

Of time, need and disgust,

And framed onto the warm walls,

Of forgiveness.

                                                                                (c) Mitul Magu

                                                                                16 July 2016

Faceless Masks

I look upon each faceless mask,

That ever crossed my wave of emotions.

That has felt so strong and vast,

Like a parabolic explosion.

I want to know how they indulge me,

What leaves me in their control?

In time, I know I will begin to see,

Why they manipulate my soul.

Those feelings are a happening,

In motion, I see them pass right through me.

Those faceless masks are fastening,

Covering my face till I cannot see.

                                      

-Mitul Magu
 5th May, 2016

Dream Efflux

The glowing memories of the sweet serene,

That softly welcomes me into their parlour.

That draws me to things I want to see,

And shows me all that my heart desires.

Of things that never happened in time,

Of things that could have changed their way.

And often moments that made me shine,

Those moments that made my day.

I watch that wondrous spell it castes on me,

Like a sudden sweet incantation.

It tells my mind to always be free,

All with life and vivification.

I ponder into those lovely dreams,

That flow through my heart and veins.

They will be conquered one day it seems,

I feel it in the heart it claims.

With every little joy a little boy could find,

Of every little detail my heart could find,

The sweet dreams devour me whole,

And takes a large part of my soul,

And all of this only in my mind.

I lay, as I watch my sweet dreams unfold.

                                                                                                                (c) Mitul Magu

                                                                                                                29^th March 2016

There's a Voice I Hear

Under the clampings

And shattering noises,

Of forgotten things

I do no longer wish to hear,

There is a voice I hear

In my mind

Under the unbalanced reasoning

And misunderstandings,

I hear a voice full of treasuries

Of findings that I have kept,

Oh so well looked after

These are my positivities

My hopes and admirations,

That keep me up in dark

That keeps all my confusion,

Extremely well lit

I ask that thought with doubt

Of whether it is a part

Of my own consciousness,

Or whether it is only a fragment

Of my imagination

And it tells me of the good

That has come up,

That has been with me for long,

And stayed through

All those years

I want to thank it

For that raspy voice had told me

Not to give up

When the time has been

Wrong for me

For understanding that

There is a reason for everything,

And that I constantly need

To be true to myself

That raspy voice has spoken

And it too will die,

The day I stop

Believing in myself

And so the voice has spoken.

-Mitul Magu

 7th march 2016