Nights ruined, days wasted.
From the fault in our stars
To the fault we see in others,
From the cruelty of circumstance
To the reality of a cruel world,
I must scour for a reason why.
Why is life not the way it’s supposed to be?
Why is it that
Souls craving fulfilment,
Spirits deserving heights,
Never ending ambition,
Hearts with the potential for compassion
And bodies with worldly passions
Meet Life’s scathing reply?
Despite my deep desire to fly,
I must meet the ground.
Feel its hard surface
Impose scars on my skin
And cuts from deep within.
But wounds heal and scars can be sealed,
What about my ambition to fly?
And the reasons why
I lie on the ground,
Licking my wounds
And romanticizing my scars?
Those questions can be answered,
But not by divine souls that exist in history or mysteries.
For people relying on the luck of the stars,
Affected by the faults they see in others,
Jaded by the cruelty of circumstance or the reality of a cruel world,
Have let go of the agency they have over their ow lives.
As for me,
I want my agency back,
I no longer intend on wasting days or ruining nights.
I have set my eyes on the sky.
That’s why I recognise that I am the problem in my life
And I intend on solving this strife.
By Anirudh Dalmia
Painting by Charlotte Farhan