Jane Eyre

Such is providence. It shockingly surprises me that I should pursue another one of the Bronte sisters for the sake of a pleasurable read, and Jane Eyre is not only that.

Charlotte Bronte, the eldest of the Bronte sisters has glorified up the whole text through her undying feminist perspectives and brilliant phrasing. The beginning of Jane Eyre may seem rather hazy and mundane, but as the multidimensional story progresses, readers cant afford to place it down, even if it is for a mediocre cause of curiosity. The book, portrays the sketchy life a young girl Jane who in her early years is ostracized from her aunt's family, but is forced to be plagued by them, for none share the blood of her her ancestors than them. The aunt feels that Jane is a cumbersome, contemptuous, boorish, rude and selfish brat who speaks like a grown lady.

Though it seems like a cliched plot, Bronte denies any opportunity for the reader to predict what can transpire. The intricately, or rather gruesomely detailed human experiences are definitely worth the read, and the spark of an emotional surge for a loved one, just cannot fail to capture hearts with the best part of interest. The heart-breaks, the laughs, the separation, the mighty and sudden reunion, fall in place like a tale ever so intense in depicting realism in literature.

Jane Eyre is a classic that people praise and still read, contradicting most classics which only get praised.

I don't want to fall another second,
As I feel like I'm floating,
I want to hit the ground,
But I still don't want to feel the pain.

And like from that silent scream,
Rose with me, this dark companion,
So cold, the touch, I feel but lifeless,
The pain, my fall, my all.

As I watch it leave,
In dark complexion of my thoughts,
It seeps from my hearts,
The eternity I wrought.

For it licks from without,
And felt from within, a dream,
That little memory, live,
All but lost now, in silence.

I lust for your cold touch of thoughts,
I lust for feeling if nothing at all,
I lust blood atleast of mine lips,
And tears to taste as they fall.

I've lost my heart, my sick stone,
Now, grieve do I for that loss,
And yet, I do not, incapable,
Of one true emotion.

Released I am, my wings arent chained,
But still I'm held back to this place,
The loss of emotion, has turned my devil
Into mine oblivion face.

Ending and beginning in darkness
If silence speaks, it graces me,
My emotions they died, unsent.
And here, I end, my lament.

-Ielfphil Raven, Durenerin

Like I've slain myself, my hands play not with my hands. I haven't felt anything except for a potential feeling, of meagre consequences tied to the present. One day it'll consume me, and then I'll learn!

Tears told time.

Tears told time.

Tears flow down so soft,
Carrying glimpses from the past,
A time that filled the heart,
Showing it a true hue,

How pure the thoughts,
Seemed then, they rage within,
The heart reminded beats,
A purposeless hope, that time, to flee,

But time has brought back,
It adorned and held,
Brings forth a pristine drop,
For tears flow down so soft.

~~~~~

Tortured Shoulders

The world of academia is very pressurizing and can sometimes attain a point where the feeling of hopelessness creeps in and swathes the mind. Before an exam, I felt quite weary and weighed down by the same ... That surpassed my threshold, I started writing this.

Tortured Shoulders

A smile on the young one,
As it beholds its unfamiliar fate,
Soon shall presume,
But a mere groan of,
The depths, a time's sudden demise.

Inferno this world, should scream,
Mindless minds have enlivened,
A slack of time and space so real,
Unnecessary but commanding, worthless,
A chain so cold to hold.

Like truth is deprived of its meaning,
Has laughter, mundane sequences,
At a pace of thoughts they scale,
To an exorbitant weight,
I beg for perspective, see?

My light to ignorance, closer apart,
The quintessence of innocence, dead,
Beats the poison and lacerates inside,
Screaming can such overcome,
A pain of tortured shoulders?

Blind they see not real,
Words behind the curtain,
Fool, realize and empathize,
See a soul inside,
Not a reflection, so nebulous.

Letting go costs more,
Than a mere agreement,
Buried inside myself,
The darkness trances me,
Blood, fate, time and all.

Screaming inside,
Let me go ...

The Heart of Life

Poetry seems to be a very significant outlet of the feelings venting up inside of me. Hence, I adore writing poetry. This is one of my earliest ones.

The Heart of Life

As you patiently lay waiting,
In the sweet warmth of your thoughts,
For the silent funeral of today,
Rare is it that you should consider,
The clement season’s end.

The moon smiles down in all it’s pristine light,
The night draped in the finest blue,
If looks have a lucid language,
And the same emblazoned with seductive allure,
I daresay it all matters down to nature.

The altruistic God gifted this,
This – a beautiful offering of life,
Yet what they do thinking of the excruciating,
The remains of which is an onerous present,
And an oblivious future.

Look beyond this surreal life,
Open your eyes to the unfathomable silk,
Sewn on to the delicate fabric of life,
So you see the luster and not the disdain,
Indeed will it festoon a face with a benign smile.

Spread your wings to minds awakened,
Kindle the heat within yourself,
Find what truly holds you high,
And indeed as time heals all,
Await the abated storm of malignancy and sorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This picture shares quite a lot with my personality, I'm
always lost in deep thought of the future or lament about the
past. But, somehow, I also live now. My mind races, linking
all of present to the past, thus producing a pattern for my
future, and accordingly, by the law of attraction, I always
plum into thoughts and pull similar circumstances.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, it has been of utmost glee that today, of rarity broken, a few unknown souls visited my residence. I did acknowledge them previously to the circumstance but this time there were two more of their family, both juvenile students, the elder, has underwent all the torture of the shackles of academia in 10th grade, CBSE that I am weighed down by. As wisdom comes with age, the white tongue of hers was a traditionally conditioned one, with accented dialects escaping her mouth. The younger was a fine lad, his temperament playful and his thought processes very creative. I had joy sharing experiences of front of the imbecile box and was admiring their relationship. How I longed to have an elder male sibling, no one but the God and me silently know. But, just last year, indeed did I rummage around insanely, looking around for one, when I did achieved what I wished was a goal. His name is Ganesh, a tall, ingenious, bright haired, cheerful 25 year old. Sharing affections is a pure act, especially when it is unconditioned. I learned a lot during my presence at his place and following the sequence of events was my learning of giving selfless affections to everyone around me. How beautiful it is! And secretly, every individual is assured of having reflected back his love to anyone. That makes a subtle change in who I was, for I wept at destiny's confinements with fate and its congregated beauty. I look upon that with high reverence. A lesson was learned from my past, which says something.

My Light.

Perhaps my presence was for a desired meaning or for a use beyond all of itself, I have decided ... perhaps it is of better circumstance that I let myself out. Bring my insides out and further inflame any burnt will that postpones itself in me. All of that red hue, my anger and the black unseen, my sorrow, I can set loose all, mischief unfold ...