Unspoken: A collection of poetry

Phoenix

There comes a phase when things turn around the bad way. No Phoenix arises from the ashes of your happiness, bushes do not allow blueberries to bloom in it's ridges and territorial rain does not cease, rather it's accompanied by unwanted hail. The worst of all that can be.

It's just like those chilled mornings when you can't bathe in the abundant sunshine because you might get a runny nose then.

This phase is called something which I don't want to know. It was a  mental and not physical aspect of what we consider as unwanted expectations. It's the phase wherein one looks at the empty portion of a jar, half full with candies and ignores the rest below that has countable assorted candy. This happens when you don't feel like seeing the good in what you've got.

I went through such a situation sometime back. It was horrible, I didn't want what I was getting and neither did I expect the things which I could not get. I was a mystery for my own self, a lonesome girl who had no key to open the door to the lost Paradise in front of her.
And did I want the key?
Argh! Maybe not.

I don't know what I demanded.
I was lost within my self.
My desires,
unwelcoming
to the thoughts which I held up in my mind.

I did not want abundant smiles, nor wanted tears to ruin my eyes.
I wanted something in the middle of everything in front of me.

I used to sit hours in the window, gazing at the white clouds floating in the heavenly ocean above me. I would adore the shape of it. One time I could illustrate a horse and the other it was like a flower, uncountable shapes floating above me, and I could see them move in sync with the breeze which swept my locks and played with my skin.

This was my escape. I could feel the pigments of wind filling up the  pores on my skin. With every sunset, I started dreaming of a life above the clouds, no place for worries, no place for gloom.

The song of wind and the vibrant rhymes which the birds sang, as early sunrise braced their feathers warmly, was merrier than the instrumental piano tunes I had grown up with. I retarded from the world but was accepted by nature.

Clouds initiated my rehabilitation and birds consummated the vague emotions which had taken over my smile.  I'm the same lonesome girl, but, with the keys to a lost Paradise in her fist. Now, I know to how to rise from the ashes of mental loneliness. It's within you, only you.

You have the key to your lost paradise, it's just that, you misplaced it with your smile.

~ A phoenix doesn't rise from ashes until you burn your depressed thoughts. ~

—DisHaDahiya