A Strange PrayerDear Lord I the self searching illusion has seen and experienced the outer worldrelationshipssuccess and failuretrue friends strangers and backbiters.I lived the different emotionsduring different seasonsI witnessed ups downsenjoyed love hatewas good badfaced beauty ugliness.There were times when I was bravethere were times when I was a coward.There were times when I was proactivethere were times when I was indecisive.After flying high in the skiesand yet being a loser...After being nothing no oneand yet feeling content..I have understood the differencebetween lust and lovehappiness and sadnessselfishness and selflessness.One often leads to anotheranother secretly carries the oneYet I am lostbetween being and becoming.An inner voice admits thatmy heart is an unexplored realmmy mind is a prisoner to my wishful thinkingand the soul is unknown to me.Setting that unknown free... now this is my heartiest wish.As Saurabh Sharmathe human beingIalwayspray to thee O lord set me free.I dont want loveI dont want to be lovedI want myself to be love itself now.That beautiful silent and divine existence...I want to get merged into that.Please give me wisdom and courage Merge me into your supreme kingdom by setting my soul free.

Discouragement fear and depressionthree villains who lurk in the dark.They slip inside souls with a blindfold and goals to shatter your dreams and extinguish your spark.Their tactics are highly effective.They crush a great many each day.And under their spell it is easy to dwellOn fiascoes and failures that end in dismay.The heart and the mind are left heavy.The last speck of will is erased.And nothing stays on when these villains are gonebut a mouthful of bile with the bitterest taste.Alas You must conquer the scoundrelsElude dodge and keep them at bayTo feel fear slink in boring under your skinis a sign that his brothers are well on their way.So reach for your weapons against themTake hope and hard work in each handStrap faith on your hips and a prayer on your lipsand show those debasers how firmly you standDiscouragement fear and depressionthe truth should be known of these cads.Theyre empty and weak it is your strength they seek.Deny them and life is your wish in the bag.

Dont fall asleep yet. Contrary to popular belief thats not where dreams get accomplished.

Please lift your snowy skies off my soul -Your diamond dreams slice through my veins

...these vignettes I sketch for you - what are they watercolors ..yes and dreams blurred with tears ...

Whiteness is the color of death you know not black. Wetness is life the breeder and shaper of life. In the beginning the sun was black. So all light was absorbed before it had a chance to return. And our dreams then were empty.

At NightLove said Wake still and think of meSleep Close your eyes till break of dayBut Dreams came by and smilinglyGave both to Love and Sleep their way.

My prayers my tears my wishes fears and lamentations were witnessed by myself and heaven alone. When we are harassed by sorrows or anxieties or long oppressed by any powerful feelings which we must keep to ourselves for which we can obtain and seek no sympathy from any living creature and which yet we cannot or will not wholly crush we often naturally seek relief in poetryand often find it toowhether in the effusions of others which seem to harmonize with our existing case or in our own attempts to give utterance to those thoughts and feelings in strains less musical perchance but more appropriate and therefore more penetrating and sympathetic and for the time more soothing or more powerful to rouse and to unburden the oppressed and swollen heart.

She is free in her wildness she is a wanderess a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules or customs. Time for her isnt something to fight against. Her life flows clean with passion like fresh water.

The unconscious wants truth as the body does. The complexity and fecundity of dreams come from the complexity and fecundity of the unconscious struggling to fulfill that desire. The complexity and fecundity of poetry come from the same struggle.