I asked for a bit of space,
a tiny but of understanding
and you handed me a diagnosis.
"Abnormal" you said.
Your favourite label for a woman
who will not bend her life to suit you.
Then came the quiet deflection, right on cue.
That condescending little laugh,
that passive way you slide backward
the second a conversation calls for actual effort.
It is a neat trick.
I ask to be met halfway.
You turn my basic needs into a defect.
You shrink back, play the victim
and try to pretend your control is just compromise.
Go ahead, label me stubborn. Label me unbending.
Roll your eyes, go play your games with someone else.
I was not asking for the moon.
I just wanted a man who could show up
without trying to pull all the strings.
The small things in life,
still a weight they tend to add,
for their weight over time
seems to grow heavier day by day.
And the days roll on,
the toils they persist,
the years stretch forth,
and small tasks yet resist.
Yet there comes a day,
when the sight of line is clear,
only small miles to climb,
the end is surely near.
So let the small things you carry
be the joys and not the tasks,
for to carry burdens
is a weighty thing of yourself to ask.
Walk unbent and unbroken,
freedom your steps make light,
and enjoy the simple pleasures
of a task mastered this night.
spiral
swirled, kinked
looping, curving, rotating
staircase, coils, arrow, ruler
pointing, aiming, training
precise, unbent
straight
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I.
granite spine unbent
by monsoon's slick persuasion—
roots grip deeper stone.
II.
the ledger lies bare
in lamplight's honest circle—
no shadow between.
III.
silence keeps its vow
when whispers bloom like poison
in the king's own ear.
Love is not a bargain with destiny.
It breathes in silence,
in the quiet faith of a pure heart.
A person who walks with truth
does not lose, even when deceived.
The world may turn its face away,
but the sky keeps watching.
Sometimes love doesn’t return
from the same eyes it left for—
yet it comes back,
through a stranger’s kindness,
a friend’s voice on a lonely night,
a child’s smile that feels familiar.
The universe keeps its promises
to those who love beyond themselves.
Nothing selfless ever fades,
it only changes its direction.
And in that invisible circle of return,
the soul of Shivangi glows—
unbroken, unbent, still believing.
I behold the iron—
gleaming, unbent in the sunlight;
yet within, a slow fire eats its marrow.
Rust spreads like a secret plague,
and once it begins,
no hand of man can cleanse it whole.
The tale of the kingmaker whispered it to me,
the theatre of selfish rulers carved it on my mind.
I saw thieves in holy garments,
anointed in greed,
investing their crimes like merchants of sorrow.
Their hunger is endless,
their ruthlessness a sharpened blade.
Heroism is not a sin,
yet the battlefield is never safe.
Who shall raise a shield for me?
Who shall lend me a voice?
If I perish, tomorrow wears no mourning cloth.
If my name survives, it is miracle;
if forgotten, I become a nameless ghost—
a son of dust,
sailing the one-way river of the dead,
longing to greet the countless shadows
who fell as I have fallen.
Justice walks with trembling feet;
its seekers sleep with daggers at their throats.
For the heads that once taught us virtue
now feast at the banquet of decay.
They crown their tables with corruption,
they threaten the tongues of truth,
and with fear’s black whip
they make Justice herself
a prisoner in chains.
Decay gnaws at a country church.
It's homeless; it's lost its congregation.
Molting stones crumble, eroding away.
Mice nibble at the altar.
Winds twine through cracks.
Rain and dew drip through.
Roof slates slip down.
Each year it's more decrepit.
As nature slowly moves in.
Edges made to endure,
fracture, collapsing into rubble.
Plinths and buttresses
forsake their faith.
Agnostic shadows creep in.
As nature resumes,
its inscrutable ways.
Bells corrode into silence.
Tongues stilled in the throat of dome.
Hymns survive only as echoes in
whistling drafts through splintered rafters.
The pews sag like tired suspenders,
long unbent in prayer.
Rain scrawls psalms on walls,
scripted in mildew and moss.
Stained glass panels drop down
into the rubbish and weeds.
Crossbeams become bird-nest perches,
for swallows and doves, now the choir.
This homeless house of God laments
in the nettles, thorns and briers.
Seeking nature’s absolution
for its forsaken ruin.
A scar upon the land.
A desolate homeless being.
A blot on the earth.
I stand where silence threatens to consume,
The dark encroaches, hungering for claim,
Yet still I walk, unflinching in the gloom,
Unbent, unbroken, nameless though my name.
Oblivion waits with patient, endless hand,
Its shadows whisper promises of peace,
But I will not bow down to shifting sand,
Nor trade my breath for chains of sweet release.
The void may laugh, the stars may turn to dust,
The years may scatter like a broken flame,
But in my veins endures a stubborn trust,
A will no darkness ever yet could tame.
Though night is vast, and all is swept away,
I scorn the end, and claim my right to stay.
I stood on the isle, winds tearing the veil,
When the Lamb broke seals and Time grew pale—
First came the White, a conqueror proud,
With bow unbent and a crown like cloud.
He rides to conquer, not for peace,
His arrows silent, wars never cease.
A mimic of Christ, but cold in deed,
He plants the lie, he sows the seed.
Then Red did thunder with sword in hand,
To tear all peace from every land.
Blood soaked soil, brother and kin,
He feeds the fire of hate within.
The Black came next with crooked scale,
Measuring grain, but hearts grow frail.
A coin for bread, the poor must choose—
To starve with pride or eat and lose.
And last the Pale, like deathless bone,
Hades followed, cold as stone.
Plague and beast and famine near,
He is the end we always fear.
They ride as judgments, sent from God,
To cleanse the earth with iron rod.
Yet still the Lamb, so meek, so bold—
Holds back the wrath, till all is told.
The sun begins the day,
Providing light to guide my way.
Yet still, I stumble upon
The weight of customs, illusions drawn.
I break each chain, one by one,
Unveiling life self-woven, undone.
Free from the weight of old deceits,
I walk where truth and freedom meet.
Vibrant as the flame within my core,
A light that whispers: “You are more.”
Nature, my guide, in canyon deep,
I breathe in silence, where rivers sweep.
Life flows on, a current bold,
Untamed, unbent, and uncontrolled.
With every step, I rise and see,
The light of Self, wild and free.
No agenda rests, no shelf to fill,
Just life unfolding, as it will.
A lantern swings in the Keeper’s hand,
its light a whisper across the land.
Through veils of shadow, time stands still,
a flame persists, unbent in will.
Each word it guards, each breath it takes,
a truth it mends, a dream it wakes.
In the hush of stars, its whispers stream,
guiding the lost through an endless dream.
But Keeper wonders, quiet and shy,
who lights the lantern when flames run dry?
Who tends the soul that forever yearns,
when the winding road twists, bends, and turns?
In twilight, riding the soft winds so slight
Above peaks, about to cradle the stars,
Two avian are flights' whispers of light
Flowing gentle, where the horizon bars
Tracing the lovers; a "V" shape crescent,
Her wingman steadfast, bright and bold his grace,
With feathers aglow, in a hush unbent,
A dance of the heart, in love's warm embrace
Spectating flowers in awe grow below,
Shadows long, they extend to each their wing,
They glide on breezes, where soft rivers flow,
Not fall birds of prey, but the songs of spring
With each graceful turn, they map out the skies,
In harmony's notes, upon sun-lights beams,
A journey unfolds, where their wild hope lies,
Elegant like silk, within looming dreams
In twilight, riding the soft winds so slight
Flowing gentle, where the horizon bars
Trumpets of purity, dressed in all white,
Two swans in flight are the whispers of light
The tongues of men are quick to rise,
With words like arrows loosed at night;
Yet none will pause to scan the skies,
To seek the stars that lend them light.
They weave their judgments, thread by thread,
A tapestry of fleeting thought,
But truths unspoken lie half-dead,
While lies take wings and fly unsought.
How cruel the careless hand can be,
To carve its mark where none can heal;
Each whispered tale, a poisoned sea,
Each glance, a blade that cuts with zeal.
Oh, would they seek the tempered flame,
Where facts stand tall, unbent, refined,
Instead of playing this cruel game
Of shadows cast by shallow minds.
The pain they sow, they may not reap,
But hearts are scarred, and wounds run deep.
Am I light or dispersed star
Scatter or straight to all earthly uneven
Whether the stray comet to unfollow
Chaos or chord to sundry upheavals
Mortal cry pebbles the enshrined path
Luminious moon guide where gleam
Wise that turn to sightless wanderer
Eternal furnace alloy even those flak
Whip of whims encage all beacons
Noble deeds dacay ,utterly numb
Trying our morale in turbulence of time
Comforts or clutter of needs ,indefinite
Men walk towards golden or grey gates
Surrender in mounting rungs and ropes
Dreams shatters like lifeless dunes
Homeless sands beneath benevolent sun
Arrays of aim pierce like pungent arrows
Win or wane for fit to survive in moor world
Featherless souls in sheer free fall;
Can there be ceaseless outbound fountain?
That fearless and frisk in favors
Solo my spirit sway all silos earth bring
Let mind sleeps sight on alpine snow
The genial breeze to free and glow
Altar the heart with care to unrest
Torch of mankind ablaze with brave
Holy human share blessings that unbent
Wish the nourishing rain to furtile and flow
Generous greats render and row.
Breath the brine in waves and wind
Sheer trips that vigil and vile
Brave who conquer and will
Break the wave thousand times.
They wish to steel in steady
They command snake to crawl
Heave the spirit in obscure decend
Pave the gold in gaudy shine.
Hail the ignite that spark unshiver
The grass they seed when arid arise
Kiss the land with motherly lips
Give the smile with benevolent divine.
Gaily sun that welcomes all woe
Raise the flag amid raging foe
Frown death within tyrrant brows
Dare to die in soldiers chime.
The unbent peers let not shiver
Words of viking one victor and valor
Endless voyage to settle ahead
Albatross shore the celestial paradise.
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